That Which Does Not Kill
by JadeNoire
Summary: Set in their Seventh Year, the HP characters are thrown into something unexpected: a mage war of epic proportions. Along with the Four Elemental Staff Holders, can Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco and Hogwarts defend itself against the hordes of evil lusting f
1. New Beginnings

An icy, harsh voice sliced the dank air of the dungeon.

"Stop sniveling, Lucius."

"B-but, my Lord...he wouldn't really be my son t-then..." Lucius Malfoy stammered. He tried to swallow, but he found that his saliva had become preposterously solid within the span of a few seconds.

The Dark Lord paid no heed to Malfoy. The lidless, slit-like emerald eyes with ruby centers stared straight forward, unwavering and ruthless.

"Lucius, you test my patience. This will be the last time I explain this plan. When a child is born, its character is already preordained. Its future—everything—is already set."

His large, diamond-shaped pupils thinned ever so slightly.

"Or didn't you know what was in store for your boy?" A slender smirk curled the left half of his shadowed visage. For reasons unknown, Voldemort's face resembled a serpentine carving more than the soft yet sharp features that he had assumed as Tom Riddle. The eyes—they were the only feature to remain the same.

"He will become closer to the MudBloods, and will even venture as far as to fall in love with a half. He will disgrace the name of Malfoy…" The Dark Lord paused, and Lucius could sense the electricity from his master's anger in the air. "Is that what you want for your son?"

Lucius' knees grew weak. His breathing quickened, and his heart pounded. He now knew what it felt like to be hunted. "No, my Lord." 

Suddenly, as Voldemort relaxed, the black pupils widened, and the electricity vanished. Instead, the ubiquitous cold that followed the Dark Lord everywhere replaced it. "Then you will perform a simple piece of dark magic, the Alterius Spell. It is related to the Imperius Curse, except that it is administered soon after birth, and the child will develop the traits you require in it without your bidding."

Voldemort stopped and his smirk returned. "A loyal follower to be formed from an errant traitor."

Upon hearing the news that his son was to be altered forever, Lucius' face twisted into a grotesque mask of pain—a pain that stemmed from the bottom of his heart, a heart that he had attempted for years to suppress without success. "You are right, my Lord, I should not have doubted you." Struck with an idea, he forced his mouth open again, but his jaws moved with difficulty. "My Lord, is there a chance that this will...ah...fail?"

The Dark Lord caressed his wand thoughtfully and paced the perimeter of the dungeon, his robes and cape softly swishing against the stone floor. The fool had a point, he thought. "Now and then, flashes of your son's old self may break through, but more importantly, is what will undo the spell completely. There is only one slim chance—if the half-breed he is destined to love reciprocates, perhaps he will revert. But we will make it difficult, Lucius, since he shall possess qualities that she will hate."

Lucius bowed low, his blond hair barely grazing the floor. "You are most masterful, my Lord."

Voldemort's cheek twitched as he barked his commands. "Karkaroff, Snape! Bring the child." His servants glided away silently. "What will you name the child, Lucius?" 

Lucius' eyes brightened. Long had he awaited this moment—the true moment of fatherhood—the christening of his firstborn son. "Narcissa wishes to name him Draco."

"The dragon. A satisfactory name," Voldemort remarked as Snape offered the helpless, writhing bundle to the Dark Lord. As steely, taloned claws enveloped the baby, it began to whimper, its gray eyes frantically searching for a savior that would never come. One bony finger motioned to Lucius. "Approach the cauldron."

Using an ornately carved dagger, Lucius sliced his forefinger. The bright red blood slowly oozed from the small wound into the bubbling cauldron. Copper-like smoke rose and curlicued upwards as the Malfoy patriarch chanted the spell.

_Blood of the father, _

_to change the son. _

_To end the tale before it has begun._

With a shaking hand, Lucius removed the ladle from the cauldron and deposited the potion into his child's mouth. A sickly, odd, yellowish tinge encased the tiny figure.

_Slytherin qualities we require, _

_of his Master's service he must never tire._

_He will value greatly the Purity of Blood, _

_and never associate with the veins of Mud._

All proceeded as planned until the glow wavered. Voldemort frowned and leaned close to the infant. Taking out his wand, he muttered a few low words and as quickly as he spoke, the bundled child became a raging inferno. A blinding yellow flash followed, and Lucius watched in awe as his son's honey-colored hair faded and his face drained of blood. Only the child's eyes remained unchanged. They had always been the coldest stone gray, like Narcissa's. As Draco blinked, Lucius' heart fell. He knew that his son's eyes, once the windows to a pure soul, had frozen over into ice...

**_Seventeen years later..._**

Quiana Jade gingerly stepped an inch closer between the platforms numbered 9 and 10. Wisps of her lengthy, jet-black hair flew madly in the wind, creating a dark frame around her light face. A quick and reflexive motion carelessly brushed the hair away, a little too carelessly. It flew back again, not giving up its mission. Annoyed, she fumbled in her messenger bag for something that would move the bothersome hair back into her low ponytail, where it belonged.

"Pardon me, but you look somewhat lost...and I think I can help you," said a happy female voice from behind.

Quiana's budding temper flare shadowed her light green eyes. Her normally intricately shaped mouth pulled into a semi-snarl as she whirled to face a homely-looking girl almost as tall as she was. Instantly, the temper evaporated, and her eyes returned to their normal, shockingly pale green color. Quiana had never been able to control her abrupt explosions of anger, a trait she inherited from her emotionally unstable mother.

Forcing her voice to operate, she replied, "Yes, I was ah...looking for the platform that would get me to the Hogwarts..." She trailed off as she glanced at the paper clutched tightly in her slim-fingered hand and blushed innocently.

"Express?" the brunette finished.

"Exactly." Quiana tried to smile, but her facial muscles only twitched unresponsively.

"You're in luck—I'm headed for Platform 9 3/4 too. Are you a first year at Hogwarts?" the brunette chuckled, eyeing the new girl incredulously.

Quiana returned the look with one of equal suspicion. "Of course not," she bristled hotly. "I am a Seventh Year, a transfer student from the Alastriona Conservatory for Witches. My grandmother thought it would be best to transfer me to Hogwarts, considering my half-sister has already been through its coursework."

The brunette's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh? Who might your half-sister be?"

Quiana's eyes glazed over. "Cho Chang. We share our mother's genetic information, and that is all. I have never met Cho in my life, and don't plan on it." She paused, clenching her jaw tightly. "Ever." 

The brunette smiled in an attempt to win the girl's trust. Some people are just so unfriendly, she thought. "So you're Cho's long-lost sister from across the world? She's told us a lot about you." Honestly, the brunette did not know why the other girl was making this difficult for them both. Normally, new students would jump at the chance to make new friends in an unknown and unfamiliar place, but this girl looked like she could be simply unbearable at times.

Quiana failed to continue the conversation. It seemed pointless, and she especially hated wasting her time with pointless people and conversations.

Noticing her project lose interest in the conversation, the brunette pushed on. "Cho lacked upon one aspect when she was telling us about you, though."

"Really." Quiana did not even look up as she spoke. Studying her neatly filed fingernails, she sighed, "And what would that be?"

The brunette's eyes lit up with glee. She had broken the barrier, or so she thought. "Your name."

Quiana sighed again. This girl was obviously not going to give up, she thought, annoyed.

Seeing her subject unresponsive once more, the brunette took the initiative. "I'll make this easier for you—if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?"

Quiana strangely felt the warm sensation of nostalgia: the "first day of school" complex. How old were they again? She thought, chuckling to herself. "Fine."

"My name...is Hermione Granger."

"Quiana Jade Llewellyn."

Hermione smiled broadly, allowing Quiana to note the equally wide teeth. "I know you and I are going to be the best of friends. Just wait until you meet Harry and Ron." 

Quiana smiled thinly. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Hermione's kind gesture had reminded her of an old friend at Alastriona. What was her name again? I think it was Celeste…Oh, God, I'm forgetting everything I don't want to ever forget, she thought worriedly as she adjusted her bag.

Striding quickly into the wavy portal, Hermione scurried aboard the large train to find seats.

As Quiana attempted to follow the brunette in the distance, she noted her entangled robe, which had unpleasantly caught itself in the stepladder. "Damn cloth," she cursed softly. I remember telling Grandmother to not get the size larger, she thought exasperatedlyWhipping out her ebony wand, she was preparing herself to cut off the robe's lower half when she realized awkwardly that someone else was pointing his wand at her. 

"_Severum_!" Draco Malfoy commanded. A ripping, tearing noise filled the echoing station as the trim of the robe separated itself from the whole. The sublimely beautiful girl fixed her fiery, pale green eyes on him.Cliché or no cliché, she is quite beautiful, and looked somewhat like Cho. They could be family, he speculated. No matter, she was probably the single, most beautiful girl Draco had ever laid eyes upon. Shaking his head, he laughed bitterly at himself. You would think that after the disaster with Hermione your hormones would cool off a bit, he berated inwardly. Looking back toward the platform, there was nothing but the train and plumes of smoke. The girl was gone.

"Harry! Harry Potter!" Hermione bellowed loudly.

A boy with jet-black hair and dark green eyes turned to face Hermione. A smile of recognition lit up his features as he drew closer.

Hermione clapped her hands together happily. "It's been so long since I've seen you last! How was your summer?"

To Harry, Hermione's voice seemed to continue endlessly into another dimension. It was the girl breathing heavily next to Hermione that had captivated him. She seemed a little ruffled. But who wouldn't be, with these crowds at the King's Cross? He thought. Harry could feel his eyes turn to the new girl. As he pretended to listen to Hermione's incessant rain of questions, he realized why she looked so familiar. Someone else who had the same exact eye shape, the nose, the lips... "Cho," he breathed. 

He knew he had pushed the wrong button when he saw a shadow descend over the girl's pale eyes.

"What about Cho?" she responded. The quivering anger in her voice could only be detected by the subtlest hearing.

A look of surprise registered on Harry's face. "Is she your sister?" he asked dumbly.

Quiana's temper flared instantly. Everywhere she went, she was continually haunted by the existence of her dreaded half-sister—"So you're Cho's sister! Aren't you that Cho girl? My gosh, you look so much like Cho!"

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "Of course, although she's only my half-sister." Pulse quickening, she glanced around for an exit. She did not know how much more of this introduction business she could tolerate. First order of business, though, was to find a window. The inside of the train car had become a sauna, and her robes were heavy and suffocating.

Then her vision began to blur. Being in Cho's shadow had frustrated her since the beginning. Hot tears stung at her lids. She fought hard to keep them back and breathed deeply, but to no avail. The lights around the car brightened and developed halos. Everything occurred in slow motion, so that even simply focusing on Harry or Hermione was a giant task. She shook her head. Objects around her started to spin casually, floating away from their gravitational tethers. In her current state, she could only make out bits and pieces of conversation.

"...This is my friend, Quiana Jade Llewellyn...not from around here...Alastriona Conservatory...all-witch school?"

Yet that was all she heard before the ground rushed up to meet her.

It was as if all the life force had been sucked out of her, and her body was nothing but a soft, flesh and blood shell. She had just begun to collapse when Harry broke off his tedious conversation with Hermione and ran to catch her. He managed to reach Quiana before her head hit the dirt-riddled floor, but was met with someone else's outstretched, pale hands. Harry finally brought himself to look away from her face and narrowed his eyes when he recognized the other person holding her.

The two nemeses glared as they acknowledged each other.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

"And just what do you think you're doing? Get your hands off of her!" Hermione dove between them, trying to get each boy as far away from the other as possible.

Draco's eyes lit with a silver fire as he coolly expressed his self-appointed domination. "I saw her first, Potter."

Harry snorted, "And you think that really matters? Please." 

Hermione's gaze was a mixture of disbelief dashed with a tinge of jealousy. Here was Harry Potter, the "Boy Who Lived," and Draco Malfoy, the Holder of the Dragon Staff, one of the only Four in the universe, fighting over some wench they barely knew, she thought angrily. What is this world coming to?

"I guess you won't be needing me then," she said haughtily. And to think that Draco and she had just broken up a mere month ago. Now here he was, goggling over this—this thing! It was absolutely ludicrous, her mind screamed.

"Wait, Granger," Draco's voice stopped her right in her tracks. It's back to the old derogatory game again, isn't it? You've forgotten me so quickly, she thought sadly. "What's her name?"

Harry laughed. "You damned idiot, can't you even recognize Cho's half-sister? Her name is Quiana. There, are you quite satisfied? We need to move her out of the aisle, if you don't mind."

Draco's mind started to drift. For some reason, the happy Cho reminded him of the summer, and the summer reminded him of the time Hermione had been the girl he loved. Or so he thought. Why did it have to end? Was it because of Ron? Harry, even? No matter now, he scolded himself.

"Are you quite all right?" Harry's voice was tight, but laced with concern.

"Huh? Yes, Potter, I'm perfectly fine. The last thing I need is for you to look after me. And yes, we'd better get Quiana awake."

But as soon as he spoke the words, he turned his attention to her face. She was incredibly beautiful, even when unconscious. He could hear her venomous comments to Harry from the other car of the Express, and when he heard the loud thump, he had charged through the door between the cars. What were you thinking, Galahad, did you think she wanted a knight in shining armor? Draco shook his head. What was with him and dangerous women? Must be those damned hormones again, he thought, taking out his wand. 

"Malfoy, you know I'm better at awakening spells," Harry pushed Draco's wand aside. "Let me do it."

"Who says, Scarface?" Draco's cold, steely gray eyes regarded him with contempt as he brought down his wand. "_Expelliarmus_!" Harry's wand flew out of his pocket and into Draco's waiting hand. "_Enervate_!" he pointed his wand at Quiana's heart, or where he suspected it would have been, just as Harry pounced on him to retrieve the stolen wand.

Meanwhile, random images flickered through Quiana's cloudy mind: a small grass hut on a beautiful beach of white sand and clear blue water…a dark, foreboding castle on a hill…and a mansion fit for a prince. Suddenly, a raspy, sinister sound accosted her from behind. She reared up to her full height and poised herself in a battle stance, but her eyes couldn't see—everything was white, pure and blinding when a flash of brilliant red streaked across her line of vision... 

Quiana's eyelids fluttered. She noticed that her hair was tangled and her skin sticky as she rubbed her aching head. The inside of the car still resembled a sauna. More voices rose together, forming an insane cacophony as she turned her ears toward the source. 

"Ow! Why won't you just give me back my goddamned wand!" Harry roared as he chased Draco.

"Not on your life, Potter!" Wands in hand, Draco was waving them just out of reach when Harry tackled him and sent them both flying through the air.

Quiana's cheek twitched as she tried to smile. Boys—they would never change. You can never avoid growing old, but you can always remain immature indefinitely, she laughed inside. Her small 'smile' faded as her gaze strayed to one of the boys with light blonde hair. There was a sad aura surrounding him—the kind of sad aura one only found around people who had lost their life, their soul, in a sense, much like the wandering ghosts who had lost their way.

By the time Draco had stopped yelling at Harry, he realized that Quiana was back on her feet and staring at him curiously. Handing the wand back to his enemy, his cheeks pinked a bit before he swallowed nervously.

He has such lovely eyes, she mused. They were slightly hypnotic, even. He must have some sort of innate power blessed upon him. Is he...? No, he couldn't be. But what if—her sharp practicality kicked in. Could he be the Third Staff? She too, had been blessed, or cursed, depending on the interpretation, with an obligation for life: to be the fourth and last of the Four Elemental Staff Holders to guard the magical world against the hordes of the Darkness.

This is ridiculous, Quiana thought. He can't – I won't – it's impossible… If the rest of the year continues like this...I might as well run away now.


	2. First Impressions

fanfix

A/n: second chapter. See what happens when Quiana and co. finally arrive at Hogwarts.

~ * ~ *

Quiana sighed. _If I really did run away… imagine what that would do to Grandma. She's the one who wanted me here in the first place. So for her sake, it's probably best if I stayed here. But all these new people are so… damn, I can't think of the word. And besides, there's another Staff Holder here. At least someone will understand what I'm going through._

Draco was lost in that girl--Quiana's--thoughtful expression. She looked less intimidating when she wasn't concentrating.

"…Hey! What the hell was that for, Potter?!" Draco broke his stare and rubbed the side of his shoulder that had been punched. Harry's eyes narrowed as he slipped his retrieved wand back into his pocket.

"I saw you goggling at Quiana. Wasn't Hermione enough?"

Draco glared back at Harry, his longtime nemesis from Gryffindor. 

"You've got it all wrong, Potter. It was Her--Granger's--idea to break up in the first place. She fell out of love with me, I guess…" as Draco's voice trailed off, Harry's face softened. 

__

He was always a sucker for a sad story, thought Draco.

"Hermione did what she thought was best, so I guess it really isn't all your fault then, Malfoy."

"That's what I keep telling myself…and you have no idea how many times that has been." Draco picked himself up off the floor and preened his robes. "I'd better get back to the Slytherin car," he added, walking briskly to the door, lest Crabbe or Goyle see him fraternizing with Gryffindors. 

"I'll see you when we get to Hogwarts then," muttered Harry.

"Anything you say, Potter." Draco didn't even bother to turn around as he waved back with a casual flip of his pale hand. 

By now, Quiana had chosen an aisle seat and had watched their conversation carefully for some time now. _They would make good friends…almost. If only Draco… (Was that his name? I was never any good with names.) would learn to put his stupid reputation behind him--maybe then he would get to experience true friendship. Like Celeste and me…_ her mind snapped instantly back to reality as she remembered something Celeste had said in the past…

Flashback 

"Vertigo… there's something I need to tell you before you leave for Hogwarts…"

Quiana smiled brightly at her best friend. "Don't worry, Leila, I'll listen to anyone at the moment but Headmistress Centaura." 

Celeste chuckled and punched her friend lightly on the shoulder. 

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? My best friend in the whole world is leaving and I might never get to see her again! I'm expecting sympathy here!"

"I was never very good at that…"

"Oh, Vertigo, what am I going to do without you?"

Quiana faked a thoughtful pose. "I don't rightly know, Leila. What are you going to do without me?"

"You were always the comedian act around here. I don't know how Mike, Lanai, Belle, and I can survive." Celeste laughed and grasped Quiana's hand tightly. "Don't you ever forget us, you understand? Never."

Quiana's heart swelled. These girls were like the family she never had, with the exception of her grandmother. How she hated to leave them…

"How could I, Leila? Oh… I think that's my grandmother's chauffeur…hurry, what was it that you wanted to tell me?"

Celeste ran her fingers through her hair nervously. 

"Quiana, there's something I never told you about during our time here at Alastriona."

Quiana's smile faded instantly. Celeste rarely used Quiana's real name unless it was especially important. 

"What could you have possibly kept from me all these years?"

Celeste exhaled. "I have a brother who goes to Hogwarts…He and I are the same age."

"Is that all?" Quiana laughed away her pangs of nervousness. "My half-sister went there, it's nothing that important…"

Celeste smiled thinly. "He's only my half-brother though…I haven't spoken to him in years, and I don't even know if he knows I exist."

Outside, a horn beeped consistently, reminding the two of the time constraint.

Quiana hugged her tightly. "I'm sure he knows you, don't worry…by the way, what's his name?"

"Draco..."

Flashback to present 

__

Could it be? Was he really related to Celeste LaSeule? Quiana shook her head. A tiny voice inside whispered the opposite. _They don't look all that alike…Draco and his platinum blonde hair. Celeste had the same color hair I had before I streaked it…_ but then she remembered his eyes; those soulful, but frozen, slate gray eyes. She had seen them somewhere before, but she wasn't sure on whom…and then it finally hit her. It was Celeste. _What the hell, it doesn't matter. I don't know a thing about him, and by the way things look, all he cares about is his goddamn reputation. _An angry voice responded. She balled her fists. People who simply cared only about the way they looked deserved to be hated. _God, why do I always get so upset about these little things? Damn you, mother! For your abandonment of me and for you instability. _Sighing deeply, Quiana undid her fists and was about to doze off in her warm, cushioned seat aboard the Express when suddenly the train lurched forward, starting her journey towards Hogwarts.

~ * ~ *

The hot air trapped inside the train car was eventually released as most of the windows were opened, allowing fresh, cool air to circulate. Quiana felt much better, but still tired. Her energy level was depleted, and so she dozed off to slowly regain it. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as she slowly closed her stony eyes. Hermione crossed her arms. 

"I still don't know why you guys were so attached to her." 

Surprised at her obvious jealousy, Harry responded, "Hermione, it was the right thing to do. I would have done the same thing for you had it been you that fainted from heat stroke." 

Ron laughed. "Aw, Hermione's just jealous 'cause she saw you and Malfoy ogling Quiana."

Harry flushed. Hermione pouted and glared daggers at Ron.

"I was--I mean, I am-- **so** not jealous of her…besides, I don't care about attention from hormonal 17-year old guys. You should know that I'm not really into that sort of thing."

Ron snickered. "Sure, all that pouting over Malfoy had nothing to do with you wanting attention from us 'hormonal 17-year old guys'. Whatever you say, Hermione." 

"That was different!" Hermione protested. She turned away from Ron and Harry, refusing to speak to both of them as she faced the aisle. _I can't believe they actually thought I was jealous. Was I that obvious? God, Hermione, you're so stupid. You can't even hide basic emotions from anybody. Draco probably thought you were some haughty little fool who needed a guy's attention. You're such a fool to think that you were actually in love with Draco Malfoy. _

(A couple hours later)

Quiana was in her dream state again… but instead of being accosted by a voice, all was silent. A thin mist provided the floor that she walked upon, but other than the misty path there were no surroundings. A light at the end of the road caused her to stop and take a step back. Squinting through the light, she saw that the light came from a mirror. 

"The Mirror of Empress Xi-Chi…" she breathed, leaning closer to the light to get a glimpse into the mirror. A brief reading on ancient Chinese magic had told her a little about Empress Xi-Chi's mirror. It was said to possess the power to view into the near future, but according to the source she read from, the mirror was said to exist only in dreams. 

Eager to discover what the future had in store for her, she approached the mirror. But to her dismay, all she could see was herself and her Blade staff. Curious for more, she extended her arm and reached for the mirror. Just as she touched the surface… 

The Hogwarts Express came to a sudden halt. Everyone, including Quiana pitched forward in his or her seats. Had it not been for her quick instincts, she would have crushed her face right into the seat in front of her. However, the forces of her hands landing on the back of the seat pushed the other seat forward even more. To her dismay, this seat happened to be occupied by one of the fattest (not to mention smelliest) witches alive, Pansy Parkinson. 

"What does it take to get a decent stop around here?" Pansy whined. She gingerly pushed her 2-ton body up out of her seat to face the person who pushed the back of her seat. Her eyes landed on Quiana, whom, by now, was ready to run out of the car as quickly as she could. "Skinny little whore, next time keep your dirty hands off of my seat."

"Whatever you say, Fatty." Quiana said as she pushed past Pansy and darted out of the car. 

Quiana let out a small gasp as she was surrounded by hundreds of First through Fifth years hurrying to catch a boat to the castle. Not exactly sure of where she was going, she decided to follow some of them to the docks. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all yawned as they walked off the train and headed to the docks. The ride to Hogwarts had been especially long, and nobody was sure why. But it just felt that way this time. The flood of younger students was intense. Harry never remembered it being so crowded. But then again, it had been a whole summer. It was possible that he had forgotten about how the docks were at this time of year. 

Noticing a lonely figure with long, dark hair at the edge of the dock, Harry nudged Ron. 

"There's Quiana. She probably doesn't know how to get to the main castle, so I figure she can catch a ride with us."

Ron made an attempt to cover his half-smile. "Okay, Harry. Not like I care or anything."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was still trying her best to ignore him.

"Quiana!" At the sound of her name being called, Quiana snapped around to face the caller. She realized it was Harry, the darker haired boy she saw on the train. 

"Think you could use a ride?" Harry asked, indicating an empty boat. "We can fit another person."

Quiana smiled politely. "I'll take you up on that offer…" And stepped in.

With a thump, the boat stopped against the shore. Cautiously planting both feet on the ground, Quiana found herself staring up at the dark castle looming before her. _You'd never think that Hogwarts would be this intimidating. Imagine all the First years getting their first glimpse of their new school…_ she smiled at the thought. She remembered her first day at Alastriona, thinking it was an average Catholic all-girls school where she wouldn't have any friends…_look how that turned out_, she thought. She wandered about the winding path leading around the eastern side of the castle. Coming across a courtyard of some sort, she found herself pausing to inspect all the different species of native plants that inhabited the area. Stroking the more fragrant blossoms, she wondered how Hogwarts was able to grow such a variety of plants in one area, without them competing for growth environment or water. _I wonder what time I was supposed to be at the Great Hall to receive my Sorting…_ Feeling the blood drain from her face, Quiana removed the acceptance letter from her messenger bag. _Meet at the Great Hall for your special Sorting at 6:45 PM…_ she checked her wristwatch. _6:40_, it read. 

"Oh, shit…" she cursed. Her boots crunched the small pebbles of the path leading to the largest building she could find. "God, I hope I picked the right door…" she whispered through gritted teeth as she pulled open the heavy doors bearing the Hogwarts crest--a lion, eagle, snake, and badger. _Interesting,_ she thought, eyeing the snake with suspicion. 

As she pulled open the door, she was regarded with thousands of heads and pairs of eyes. Most were gawking at the rude entrance. The aisles among the 4 tables were kept perfectly clear, and as a result, Quiana could see the towering figure of Professor McGonagall, standing next to a tall, wooden stool with a small, frayed hat sitting listlessly on top. 

"You are Miss Llewellyn, I presume…" Professor McGonagall peered at Quiana over her glasses, then looked down at her pocket watch. "You're a bit late, I'm afraid, but nevertheless, the show must go on. Your classmates are eager to be getting to their classes. As for your class schedule, come and see me after the ceremony. Have I made myself clear?" 

Quiana regarded the professor with mutual respect. "Yes, professor." She answered hastily. 

Meanwhile, in the audience, Harry studied her form. Most new students usually cringed at the first sight of McGonagall. She had that sort of effect upon students. Strangely, Quiana didn't move a muscle. She didn't even flinch when McGonagall had pointed out her tardiness. _It takes one to know one…_ he thought. _But now that I think about it, she really does look like Cho…from a distance. Cho…what a memory. How could I have really 'loved' her? And moreover, how could she just leave me in the dust like that… I loved her so much. I would have done anything to make her stay; anything to not make her go… _A familiar pain crept up Harry's heart. After all this time, Cho could still wrench out his heart and rip it to pieces. The memory of her departure was as fresh as a new coat of Muggle paint…

Flashback 

(_Harry grabs Cho by the arm.)_

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

Cho tried to shake free of Harry's tight grip. "I don't have to tell you anything…"

Although stung by her sudden harshness, Harry persisted. "Cho, please don't leave…I… love you. Please, don't leave."

Finally, Cho jerked free of Harry. She sighed, her face betraying her feelings of apparent guilt. 

"Listen, Harry, I don't have a choice. My father needs me in Shanghai. He can no longer afford to send me to a magic boarding school in England. It's too far away, Harry. I didn't want to tell you because…" she paused as if to think of a reasonable excuse. "I thought it would be best to cut things off silently. Oh, honestly, Harry, you know how I feel about you, you do." Cho's voice was beginning to take on an edgy tone, like she didn't want to be there any longer. 

"But Cho…I thought…" Harry could barely choke out the words as he gazed longingly at her already moving figure.

"Good bye, Harry." 

Flash back to present 

Harry was welcomed back to reality by a sharp elbow to his ribs.

"What's the new girl's name again?" Ron asked, squinting hard. "She looks like Cho."

Harry faced him with an icy stare. Ron instantly realized his mistake. 

"Oh. Well, um… she looks pretty. From here."

Harry looked down and studied his feet. "She is up close too, had you been noticing on the boat."

Ron gaped. Hermione, who had strategically placed herself in between the two, sighed with exasperation. 

"Honestly, you guys and your raging hormones."

She frowned as Quiana approached the Sorting Hat. _That little bitch is like the modern day Muggle Barbie doll. She has everything. Within a few hours of arriving, she's managed to capture three guys' attention and turned me away. Me! The person who tried to become her friend! The person who actually introduced her to Harry and Ron! All I can look forward to is that she won't be in my House. She'll probably be stuck in Hufflepuff or something. _Hermione couldn't help but smile. _Picture this, Cho's bastard born half-sister, the irresistible Quiana, in the House of Hufflepuff!_

~ * ~ *

Climbing up on the stool, Quiana could see almost every table. Most students were now staring instead of gawking. Some extra talkative ones were whispering among themselves, pointing at her and making it obvious that they were talking about her. Professor McGonagall presented her with the battered, old, Sorting Hat. Quiana slipped it on over her head and found that it wasn't so small after all.

Immediately, the cheerful, soothing voice of the Hat began whispering into her ear.

"Ah, a natural born leader. Not afraid to do anything, are you? I see… oh yes, great, great courage. Ambition and rebellion thrown in for good measure…" the Hat chuckled. "Slytherin does not suit your persona, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are a bit extreme…then you might as well be… Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted gleefully. 

Harry wondered if he had heard the Hat correctly. Hermione nearly fell out of her seat. At the Slytherin table, Draco wondered if he could survive another Gryffindor infatuation. _It was bad enough with Hermione, and now this? _He slapped his forehead. _This is going to be a hell of a year._

~ * ~ *

"And here is your schedule," Professor McGonagall smiled. "The Gryffindor Dormitory is right behind the Great Hall. You will see a portrait of a fat lady wearing a pink dress. She will ask you for a password, which is cichild, by the way. The classes are labeled, so you should have no trouble finding them. If you do happen to get lost, ask any other seventh year and they will be able to tell you. I'm assuming you have all of your materials…" McGonagall trailed off and fixed Quiana with her thousand-yard stare. Quiana swallowed. 

"Yes, Professor."

"Good, good. Well. You'd better get going to your first class, I'm afraid I've already set you somewhat behind. I don't think you are that late, but you had better hurry." The professor subsequently busied herself with new applications from incoming students.

Quiana's face twitched into some form of 'smile'. Exiting the office, she glanced at the white scroll upon which her schedule was written in a fine print. Her first class was… Charms. Steadying her messenger bag, she fairly ran to the room labeled Charms--Prof. Flitwick. _What kind of a name was 'Flitwick'? Never you mind his name, he still controls your grade! _She thought as she entered the classroom. _What kind of a freak had such a fruity name? Oh...well._

There was a slight creaking sound as she opened the freshly painted door and peered inside the class. Instantly, 50 heads turned to stare curiously at her. 

__

Shit. The first class of the year and I'm stuck with Slytherins.

A short but friendly looking wizard glanced at her from his position behind the large, official looking podium. "And who might you be?"

"Quiana Llewellyn." She answered lazily. The room was plain except for the various charts at the back of the class regarding the students' current grades.

"Ah. I see." Professor Flitwick shuffled through his class roster. "Miss Quiana, please take a seat in the 3rd row, 5th from the back." 

The other Gryffindor students exchanged confused glances. She didn't belong on the other side.

Blinking indifferently, she walked with deliberate, stealthy steps toward the back, where most of the Slytherin students were situated. As she approached her pre-scrawled desk, she could her whispers coming from the hideous girls surrounding the area. Quiana's conscience instantly registered distaste. She never had patience for ignorance. It disgusted her quite completely. 

"Hey, baby, you busy tonight?" Rider Hull, also a Slytherin seventh year, hissed in an attempt to be alluring--except for the fact that his voice came out as a series of husky, semi-low coughs. 

The Slytherin boys snickered. Rider was widely known as the school flirt, besides Draco, although Draco rarely wasted his time on any and every girl. He was picky about his partners. Only the best would do for him. This factor had girls falling all over themselves trying to capture his ever-elusive attention.

Quiana sighed and set her bag down, ignoring Rider's incessant whispered catcalls.

__

That Rider is such a waste of a wizard. What am I doing here? This isn't what Grandma Llewellyn or my father wanted. I should be getting an education...something to help me solve the mystery of this freak show I call my life.

Pansy Parkinson, who was tired of simply sitting idly and snickering, decided to contribute her thoughts of Quiana. 

"Exhibit A: the Gryffindor freak." She denounced happily, with a heavy tone of disdain in her voice.

Caressing her wand, Quiana eyed the fat witch icily. "Exhibit B: the Slytherin Giant, the largest, yet most pitiful of creatures." 

Draco squirmed uneasily in his seat. With each brush of her slim, artistic fingers...Draco gave himself a mental slap. No girl had ever been in such possession of his feelings. He had never let anyone get that close. Ironic, wasn't it? For years, he was the coveted prize of every girl that passed him by. And now the newest transfer student he hardly knew was in almost total control of his feelings. 

Professor Flitwick remained oblivious to the students and continued in his drone about the Requiem Charm. 

Quiana was in her own private world, drawing small pictures with her wand in the pre-carved desk. All she caught was the homework assignment...which was basically all she wanted to catch.

"...I expect a 3-foot from each of you on the Requiem and Burial Charm. I'll be looking forward to your 5 foot, Ms. Granger." 

Hermione grinned politely from the other side of the room. "Thank you, Professor Flitwick. Would you mind if I included an extra charm relating to them also?" 

__

What a kiss-ass. She wouldn't last 5 minutes in Alastriona. Then again, she probably wouldn't be good enough to get in anyway... Quiana thought, with a tinge of jealousy. Her eyes burned. She was always the most esteemed student in all of her classes. It unnerved her that she was moved back to the bottom of the food chain. 

Professor Flitwick dismissed the class with a short wave of his hand.

__

Freedom! Quiana shoved everything back into her bag and jogged quickly out into the corridor.

Rider nudged Draco. "Why don't you try to work some of your Malfoy magic on her, eh?" 

"Fuck off, Rider." 

Rider held up his hands in a protective stance. "Fine, fine." A mischievous sparkle returned to his eye. "In that case..."

Running out the door to catch her, Rider obnoxiously shouted, "Someone's got a nice ass! Mind coming over for a shag sometime?" 

Quiana halted in her tracks. There was nothing that pissed her off more than horny, annoying, 17-year-old guys who had nothing better to do than to hit on unsuspecting girls. Dropping her bag parallel to a wall, she turned around and marched efficiently toward the spot where Rider was standing, arms folded, whilst a smirk played on his face.

"Have you come to get me, baby?" he drawled.

But instead of stopping in front of him, like he expected, she kept going and at the last moment, outstretched both arms and shoved Rider forcibly against the stucco wall. 

"Do you really want me?" She asked seductively, shoving her hand against his throat. "Do you?" she asked again, this time leaning all her weight upon that arm, slowly cutting off his airflow. Rider's chocolate eyes emanated his fear. It was then that he knew he messed with the wrong girl.

"No, no!" he managed to squeak.

Satisfied, Quiana let go of his throat and brushed a finger along the side of his chin. Rider shivered under the light touch. 

"Don't make me do that again." She commanded in a low tone. Then, smiling attractively turned around and returned to retrieve her bag. 

__

Great, next I have Herbology with Sprout. Maybe this will be a little more interesting… she commented sarcastically to herself.

As she continued in her path down the hall, she felt the heat of many eyes, Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Hermione, who was still standing in the Charms doorway, stared angrily after her. _Why do I feel so jealous when I know I'm not? Is it because…because she's everything I wish I could be? No, Hermione. You're your own person. You have your own friends…_ _and if anything, you'll always have them…right?_

Find out more about Quiana and Draco's secret gift… as well as more about Quiana's mysterious past.

[love] vertigo


	3. Secrets and Combustibles

fanfik

A/n: third chapter. More school adventures. More secrets revealed, etc. 

Disclaimer I've forgotten (twice!) to include this little fragment of lawyer speak so I'm doing it now because I figured before anyone sues me for copyright infringement I better say something now. Anyways, Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Draco, Cho, as well as any other affiliated HP thing belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. Quiana, Celeste, Alastriona Conservatory, Mike/Lanai/Belle, and the 4 Holders of the Staff are my ideas as well as basic thoughts I've collected from other stories. 

~ * ~ *

The greenhouse that day would be better off described as a madhouse. The Slytherin and Gryffindors had found ways to use the Lidovera plant's flowers as effective weapons against one another. Professor Sprout scrambled around to separate pairs of students exploding the flowers against one another. 

"Stop! All of you stop! This is not acceptable behavior of Seventh Years!" 

Harry and Ron had the time of their lives, targeting the easiest Slytherins they could find. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy all suffered from hits of the exploded Lidovera flower. Even Draco generated amusement by throwing a fast one at Harry and laughing heartily when it exploded and created a green smudge on the black robe.

Hermione was trying her best to help Professor Sprout stop the insanity. She tried to hold Ron back from picking a whole plant and chucking it at Draco. 

"Ron, please! Don't make me put you in a body bind!" she threatened.

But instead of listening to her, Ron laughed hysterically and broke free of her grasp. He picked an amazing number of the combustible flowers and managed to throw them all up in the air, his intentions being to create a small shower of Lidovera explosions. 

Professor Sprout nearly fainted, but managed to shout, "Everybody get down and cover your heads!"

Hermione dove under a lab table. Harry and Ron hid under a Featherhot tree. Draco found refuge under a stool, while Crabbe and Goyle remained where they were, confident that they could face the wrath of the explosions. Pansy cowered in fear, whimpering quietly. Quiana couldn't help but be amused at the scene. _I guess it's time to do my one good deed for the day._ She thought as she took out her wand. _These are the two classes Hogwarts calls its best? Spare me. In Alastriona, we used to grow mutated species of Lidovera to create flowers with the power of explosion equivalent to that of a Muggle hand grenade. _

"Demitasse!" she ordered. A clear, bubble-like shield amassed itself over the group of hidden Slytherin and Gryffindor students. Crossing her arms, she looked upwards to see how the flowers would respond on contact with the shield. With each popping sound, she knew that the basic shield spell had been performed correctly.

Professor Sprout was the first to come out of hiding. She looked like a groundhog coming out of hibernation for the first time in months. Several students, seeing that no kind of danger fell upon their teacher, peeked over the desks and eventually stood up. Looking around her, Professor Sprout's face registered in a surprised appearance. All of the students hid during the crisis…with the exception of one. That new student she had just seen Sorted only a few hours ago. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor Sprout asked curiously. "How did you know to use the Dome Bubble Spell against the Lidovera flower?"

"Finite Incantatem," Quiana closed the spell and faced the Professor. The bubble vanished. "Oh, Professor, it was nothing. I just acted on instinct and it happened to work. Plain luck, I guess."

Professor Sprout straightened and smiled. She looked relieved. "It was a very good instinct, Miss…"

"Quiana Llewellyn." _What does it take for someone to remember my name? It isn't that hard, is it?_

"Well, Miss Llewellyn, for your act of courage today, Gryffindor will be awarded 50 points. Class is dismissed." Professor Sprout waved a short finger at them. "And you had better thank Miss Llewellyn, because if it hadn't been for her, I would have reported your behavior straight to Headmaster Dumbledore…" 

Quiana didn't bother to hear the rest of Professor Sprout's schpeal. It was nothing to her. All she did was make a good guess and it happened to protect the already hidden students from a couple of little stings and stains. _Woo-ie. Well, I guess that covers my good deed for the day,_ she thought as she meandered lazily out of the greenhouse.

Hermione seethed with rage as she watched Quiana walk nonchalantly out of the greenhouse. _I could have done it. I could have saved the class. But no, I guess she had to save them first. She's doing this on purpose--she knows how much it pisses me off. All right, Quiana, Miss I'm so Perfect, I promise that I will find a way to get back at you. I'll find out all your secrets, and I'm going to use them all to my advantage. I'm going to expose you for the true bitch you are…_

~ * ~ *

__

I only have Transfiguration and Arithmancy tonight. That leaves a good 4 to 5 hours to do…whatever. Quiana's room was darkened, save one small light for studying her schedule. She rubbed her tired eyes. It'd be best to get at least 2 or 3 hours of practice, which would leave her with plenty of time for a break afterwards. _I wonder where the Hogwarts Quidditch field is located…_

~ * ~ *

Peeves the Poltergeist hummed happily to himself as he wreaked havoc one ceramic piece at a time in the Great Hall.

"Oh, happy day…" (crash) "My, there goes another one…" (large crash)

He was just about to send a heavy vase to its demise when he was suddenly disturbed by the sound of an opening door. 

"Do you happen to know where the Quidditch field is located?" the girl poked her head in and asked.

"Next to the greenhouse, what's it to you?" Peeves sneered. He didn't get much of a chance. The girl had already left.

~ * ~ *

The wind blew gently through Quiana's long black hair, which was tied in a low ponytail. The grass in the Quidditch field rustled along with her. Dressed in a form fitting shirt, pants, gloves, and boots, she looked every ounce the professional Holder of the Blade staff. She inhaled a large breath of air.

"Accio Blade staff!" _Here goes nothing…_ Launching herself into a practiced routine of handsprings and round-offs, anyone who came upon the scene might have mistaken her for some stowaway acrobat from the nearest gymnastics training facility. But in actuality, Quiana was fully self-taught in basic gymnastics and self-defense. Living in the filthy, deserted alleyway of the Zhou-Xian district of Nanhai had taught her any form of self-defense was necessary for survival. After the fifth consecutive handspring, while in mid-air, a long handled ebony staff with a thin double crescent blade came from possibly nowhere and was caught in the sure grasp of Quiana Llewellyn, the newest assigned Holder of the Blade staff. Once the staff was caught, Quiana stopped all of her acrobatics and began to perform smooth, controlled motions with it. The staff spun so gracefully on her arms, one would never think that it weighed nearly 10 pounds. 

~ * ~ *

It was then that the Slytherin Quidditch team decided to show up for practice. Their captain, Fox Roselyn, was about to send his team running onto the field when he spotted a far away figure on the field. It was a tall girl who had instantly snared his eye. Fox frowned and squinted. 

"Who the hell is that and what is she doing on the Quidditch field where the great Slytherin team is supposed to be practicing?"

"Quiana Llewellyn, the newest Gryffindor inductee. Didn't you pay any attention at all this morning?" Pansy spat her name like a bad taste. 

"Pansy, you know these things are never worth paying my attention to," Fox remarked with disdain. He sighed. "We'll just have to show her who's boss around here. Such a pity too, she's really a pretty one. Release the Bludgers."

Draco couldn't believe his eyes. _Could it be? The Fourth Holder actually existed?_

~ * ~ *

Quiana knew perfectly well that the Slytherin Quidditch team was there. She knew about the Bludgers that were flying straight at her from a distance. She even felt the stares of the team…but there was one stare that was slightly different, on a different level. It was the gaze of another Holder. She paused and set down her staff. Her gaze wandered back to the team, most of who were gaping in awe. _That guy with platinum hair…the one with the hypnotic eyes. The different stare I felt was his. Oh, look, it's Fatty, _she mused. _I wonder how she even got on the team, more or less on a broom. It's amazing what you can do with a few galleons here and there…_Quiana closed her eyes. _They're coming for you…_ she could feel the Bludgers' presence. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, lit with an icy fire. A sly smile crawled from her lips. _Let's have some fun, shall we?_

~ * ~ *

Crabbe, Goyle, and Fox were laughing madly. They seemed to seem this current situation 'funny'. 

"Oh come now, Malfoy, have a little fun in your life. Why don't you try chucking the Snitch at her too!" Fox jeered. 

Draco simply stared past him to Quiana. The fact of the Fourth Holder existing was nearly impossible. The original Holder of the Blade staff was lost in the legendary First Mage War. Not another had graced the world of magic for at least a century. _So that was why I was drawn to her…_ Since she was the last Holder, the prophecy foretold that she would be by far the most attractive of the Four, but also the most protective, defensive, and rebellious. Fighting to the end. _Those Bludgers have no idea what will hit them next._

~ * ~ *

Two black spots approaching at breakneck speed. Quiana half-smiled to herself. Picking up her staff with the smoothest grace, she broke into a fast sprint directly into the path of the Bludgers. Considering she was looking for trouble--she'd take what she could get.

"What, in the name of Voldemort is she doing?" Fox had stopped laughing.

Crabbe scratched his brillo-pad style hair. "Um…it looks like she's gonna charge them…ha…"

__

Charging would probably be a bit of an understatement… Draco thought. If this had been in a different situation, he might have enjoyed himself. Quiana was putting on a magnificent show for the team. Whipping her staff from behind her, she brought it crashing down on the first Bludger. There was virtually no sound as the thin but diamond-sharp metal of the blade sliced it easily through the middle. The second Bludger was closing in fast, but Quiana seemed to know already. Sensing its presence, she ducked and swiftly brought the blade around her head, catching the Bludger just as it had wheeled back to try and hit her from the back. By now, Quiana was bent on one knee; her Blade staff aligned parallel with her arm. Staking her staff into the ground, she leaned on it for support as she helped herself to stand. She flipped her loose hair back, and casually sent her Blade staff back with a simple storing spell for inanimate objects: "Requitetium."

Draco swallowed hard. She was within a short distance from him. His heart was beating nearly as fast as those Bludgers had been flying. He could hear his blood roar in his ears. 

__

I wonder why he's squirming like that, Quiana thought, slightly amused. _Why don't I just go over there and tell him why I think he's so fidgety. _She took a few steps more until she stopped deliberately a few millimeters in front of his face. _Funny, he didn't look this tall from far away._ Even though he was only a few inches taller, she still had to look up at him.

"Do you know the prophecy?" she whispered, practically breathing down his throat.

Draco could die. He couldn't manage to say anything back. He was still in the process of absorbing the whole chain of events.

But instead of smiling, Quiana's lovely face remained the same. Her eyes froze over. Pushing him to the side, she commented, "Too bad I can't fall in love with such a self-conceited bastard as you." And with that, she walked quickly off the Quidditch field in the direction of the Gryffindor tower, leaving the (very) stunned Slytherin team to themselves. 

~ * ~ *

Meanwhile, Hermione's eyes were starting to ache from reading by wand-light. The sun had set long ago; holed up in her room and surrounded by books, she could not find a place to set down her Omnioculars. _Screw this bloody thing._ She threw it angrily across the room, managing to nick Crookshanks' tail.

"Meow!" Crookshanks shot Hermione a look of animalistic reproach.

"Oh, Crookshanks, not now." Hermione flipped through some class books she had borrowed from Professor Binns to supposedly 'study'. _The Legendary Holders of the Staff, from the History of Legends, Vol. 7… so this is the book in which your secret is hidden!_ Hermione searched quickly and pinpointed the pages that had illustrations of the 4 staffs themselves. The first page of the chapter describing the Holders defined them as, "An elite group of four men and women who are chosen by the Staffs to defend the world against evil. When assembled on the sacred grounds of Evangelia, their power is great enough to reverse the Apocalypse."

The first illustration was a sketch of a long, gold staff with a sun crowning the top. Intricate silver designs were carved into the handle, as well as the names of the Holders who had been chosen in the past by the Staff itself. The next sketch showed a metallic, cerulean blue staff with carvings of various ocean creatures on the handle. The top was crowned with a small, sapphire sculpture of spouting water. It was said that when the light passed through it, it glittered just like the ocean would. On the back of the page was a sketch of the Dragon Staff, one Hermione knew very well. She had been there when Fiona, the Queen of Dragons, had led the Staff to its newest Holder, Draco Malfoy. They had drawn it exactly as she had seen it, the handle a blood red color with a golden, green-eyed dragon crowning the top. The last sketch was of the Blade staff. Its ebony handle with silver design was by far the simplest but the blade itself was another story. The blade topping the handle was not very wide, and it was actually quite thin. A border of inscribed ivy lined the edges, and the blade itself was said to be able to cut through anything. Each Staff possessed its own history of Holders--when one died, the Staff simply added the deceased Holder's name to the handle and chose another person worthy of it. Rowena Ravenclaw was said to have been a Holder of the Dragon Staff, while Godric Gryffindor held the most powerful of them all, the Sun Staff. 

Hermione's eyes darted to the updated list of Holders. Her finger trailed after the words written in an unusual, pointed and slanted hand. The ink was dark, as if it had been written only a few minutes before. Honorable Holder of the Sun Staff, Maxwell Hobby; Location: Unknown (born in London, England.) Honorable Holder of the Sea Staff, Etana Kai; Location: Southern coast of Malaysia. Honorable Holder of the Dragon Staff, Draco Malfoy… Hermione had to pause. Tiny jolts of electricity passed through her fingers even as she touched his written name. She stared in wonder at her fingers, then moved on. …Location: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, England. Honorable Holder of the Blade Staff, Quiana Llewellyn… _So this is what you are, _Hermione grinned. Location: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…Hermione turned the page. Considering it was the end of the chapter, she expected it to be blank. But it remained blank only for a few moments before the unique, slanted handwriting seeped onto the page. _It's a poem,_ Hermione realized. 

"From the Sea to the Sun, Dragon to the Blade, 

Together are bade

To defend the good against the pit of evil

Sea and Sun, Dragon and Blade

Seek comfort in each other

Never in another

Together forever

Sea and Sun, Dragon and Blade"

__

What in the world could that mean? Hermione thought anxiously. _Are they trying to say that…that they are meant to be together? And that Draco 'loving' me was all some hoax? That's not true. I don't believe it. Draco loved me. He promised to love me forever, and it's true. Besides, what does a book know about true love, anyhow?_ Frustrated and hurt, Hermione slammed the book shut and threw it against a wall of the room she shared with Lavender Brown (who was conveniently staying over in Parvati's room). Hermione turned around to face Crookshanks, who was nursing his nicked tail on her bed. 

"Do you believe the prophecy, Crookshanks?"

Her cat could not answer, but instead only offer a pitiful look. 

Hermione's eyes welled. "So it's true?" Tears stood at the edges of their cliffs, ready to fall. Still in denial, she went on admiring the night sky from her window. Figured on brooms racing about the sky, training for a match this coming weekend. Blinking from the sudden breeze, a single tear was released from its prison to make the lonesome journey down her cheek only to end up committing suicide on the windowsill she was leaning upon. 

~ * ~ *

"Lucius! Lucius Malfoy, I order you to Apparate to me this instant. Now!" the Dark Lord Voldemort screamed. His voice reverberated in the walls of his concealed underground cave. Nagini slithered up beside him, forked tongue tasting the air.

"I know, Nagini, I know…" he sighed impatiently. "Lucius!" he boomed again.

(Pop!) "My apologies, your darkness. There was--" Lucius appeared and bowed low. But before he could explain, Voldemort had already raised his 13 1/2-inch wand.

"Crucio." The word slipped out of the Dark Lord's mouth like lethal venom.

Lucius Malfoy's body started to tremble instantaneously. The tremors grew into spasms, and soon, Lucius was on the dusty floor of the cave, writhing in extreme pain. He did not cry out, for he knew the consequences all too well of that imbecilic action. All he could force out was,

"My Lord…" he almost choked on the sweat pouring from his face. "Why?"

Voldemort fixed a cold red eye upon the body that lay twitching spasmodically before him. He stroked Nagini. "Your boy is continuing to destroy my plan for world domination, Lucius. Do you happen to know whom he has found? Do you?"

Lucius swallowed and fought hard to keep back involuntary tears. "No, my Lord…"

Voldemort continued to stroke the immense python. "Are you really that ignorant, Lucius?" He stopped stroking Nagini and fixed both ruby eyes on Lucius Malfoy. 

Lucius' eyes bulged as another wave of pain hit him. "Yes…my Lord…" he choked.

Voldemort actually let out a sigh and looked disappointedly back at Nagini. "It is very difficult to find good help these days," he turned back to Lucius. "But beggars can't be choosers, now can they?" Voldemort raised his wand again. "Finite Incantatem."

Lucius immediately stopped twitching. He sucked in a lungful of air. Another. Exhaled. Swallowed. Blinked. His entire body throbbed as if he had been beaten with a stick at least 50 times. Getting up and then kowtowing in front of Voldemort, he said in a small voice, "My lord is most merciful."

Voldemort seemed satiated for the moment. Good things don't tend to last very long, for Voldemort queried again about Draco's newest discovery. 

Lucius was genuinely confused. "Discovery? What sort of discovery, my Lord?"

Voldemort's blood red eyes remained cool. "I am assuming that you know of the legendary Holders of the Staff? Possibly the greatest source of good in the world of magic?" 

Lucius nodded like a puppet. "Of course, my Lord, although my knowledge is only rudimentary compared to yours."

Voldemort's eyes flared. "Yet you fail to realize that your **son** is now one of them!"

Lucius instantly cast his gaze to the floor. "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort's temper cooled. "Tell me, Lucius, do you happen to know exactly how many Holders are on this earth at this moment?"

Lucius made sure to choose his words carefully. "I'm not positive, my Lord, but at the last time recorded, there were only two Holders left alive after the First Mage War: The Holder of the Sea Staff and the Holder of the Sun Staff. But now that…" Lucius grew uncomfortable and cleared his throat. "But now that… Draco… is the Holder of the Dragon Staff, they are still lacking the fourth and last of them."

"A quick one, you are." The Dark Lord commented. "Isn't he quick, Nagini?" 

Lucius' eyes widened. "But you can't be serious, the Blade Staff is virtually non-wizard-handle-able. Its power is unchecked, and no one has been able to call it or even get their hands on it. The Blade responds to none but its Holder."

Voldemort's voice became the frigid wind of the Arctic. "Lucius, you of all people should know that nothing is impossible. Your son for example, the apparent heir to the Malfoy empire--the newest Holder of the Dragon Staff--do you really expect him to continue the tradition? Oh, Lucius, don't give me that look. You know it's true. Too bad Narcissa only had one child…However, Lucius, I do have a point. The Holder of the Blade Staff has resurfaced at Hogwarts School. Her name is Quiana, and she holds much power as a Holder. A pity your son has fallen hard for her…she has yet to reciprocate his feelings."

His pride bruised and ego deflated, Lucius had nothing to say back to his master. Instead, his eyes only narrowed at the mention of his son 'falling' for this girl.

Voldemort continued, oblivious to Lucius' emotions. "She looks strikingly like Harry Potter. The black hair, astonishingly hypnotic green eyes; although I must say I half expected them to be darker than they are. Hmm…her eyes do seem a little familiar." The Dark Lord shrugged it off. "Must have been some servant with the same colored eyes. Your boy can hardly take himself, Lucius; he is so infatuated with this Quiana. Wasn't it bad enough with that MudBlood he tried to get along with last summer?"

Lucius frowned at the thought of that MudBlood even trying to enter his house. "Yes, my Lord, that was completely uncalled for."

Voldemort tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair. "Well…it seems that our plans are proceeding just fine. Quiana does not like your son, needless to say 'love' your son; therefore she will be unable to fulfill that part of the prophecy--the Alterius spell has not failed us. The four Holders will never meet on the Grounds of Evangelia…and I will be…unstoppable…" the Dark Lord's eerie, empty laugh echoed throughout the dank cave, engraved far under the roots of the Forbidden Forest. 

* Previews *

Well, I have to say I haven't thought of what I'm going to do with chapter 4…but I do know that Hogwarts will be holding a Ball soon…and someone from Quiana's past has come back to pay a visit. Draco gets a letter from Mummy dearest, and will anything happen with Draco and Quiana? Or will his ego just get in the way? Hmm… until next time. [Btw, sorry this was kinda late]

[LoVe] vertigo

P.S. thanks Sarah and SaFire for keeping me going. Hope you like the rest of the story…


	4. Sweet Irony

A/N: (^_^) This is has taken me a while to produce, no? I have to admit I procrastinated it for a while, mainly because I kinda gave up the writing process…due to the fact that I suck compared to all the other **great** fanfics I read plus the fact that there is something in my life called 'school'. I was like "Dammit, I give up. No one wants to read this anymore." But then I thought, "Oh hell, I started it, I might as well finish it." Unfortunately only God knows when I'm ever going to finish this super-long story. But if you wanted to know what happened, read on. 

~ * ~ *

A few months later…(i.e.--early November)

The sun had already crawled above the horizon when Quiana awoke to a gentle breeze flowing in from the open window.

__

Damn it, Angelica, why couldn't you have closed the window before you came back from that shitty party last night? Quiana thought grumpily as she slammed the window closed. It cracked a little as it landed on the sill. _This is such a stupid piece of crap. Someone's doing this on purpose just to MAKE me fix it._

Grabbing her wand from her night table, she pointed it at the small crack in the windowpane. 

"Reparo." The glass slowly but surely filled the crack and looked good as new.

Angelica, Quiana's roommate who was supposedly 'sleeping' in the next bed, sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?" She asked groggily.

"Too early," Quiana replied, fetching a towel from her trunk. "Go back to bed and sleep off that hangover. If Snape catches you like that he's going to have a cow."

"Okay," Angelica mumbled. She was asleep again before her head hit her pillow.

Quiana sighed. Hangovers were never a pleasant experience. Before her mother, Calista, disappeared, she recalled that Calista would always stay at home…barely conscious and drinking imported Japanese beer. Hours were wasted staring blankly at the pictures of herself and her deceased husband, Edward Llewellyn. After coming home from school she would find her mother hunched over the sink, vomiting endlessly. It continued like this for weeks. The weeks slowly evolved to months…and then the months turned into years. She would try to stop Calista from drinking, but to no avail. Then all of the sudden, on the day of Quiana's ninth birthday, Calista Wu disappeared without a trace. No note, no body…nothing was ever found of her. Alone and afraid, Quiana spent the next six years forging a life for herself. She was even reduced to begging for money just so she could have something to eat. But she would never go so low as to sell herself on the underground Chinese pornography market. 

__

Did you have to go off on that memory? Of all memories to choose from, you have to remember that one. She berated herself. But just telling herself to stop thinking about those painful memories didn't help. In her mind, she could see everything happening all over again, except for the fact that this time she was watching the little girl trying to make her own life; the little girl whose dreams had been so violently robbed and left with nothing. _Stop it, stop it. Don't bring back what's already over and done. Leave the past where it should be._ Quiana inhaled, envisioning positive things and banishing the negatives. _It's a brand new day. And there's nothing like a good shower to get you started._ Pulling out her hair band, she streaked across the hall to the bathroom to reserve a shower stall for herself, before all the other girls decided that they too, needed a shower to start their day. 

Hermione could barely see clearly as she stumbled to the bathroom to wash her face and prepare to face the rest of the school. 

"Ow, watch where you're going, raccoon eyes," Padma snapped angrily, rubbing her head where Hermione had accidentally run into her.

"Huh?" Hermione was too disoriented to answer. She barely made it to a sink in front of the large mirror. _Moaning Myrtle must be trying to sing again,_ she thought, hearing someone humming in the background. _It's awful steamy in here. Someone must be taking a shower._ Looking at herself in the mirror, she almost jumped back from shock. Her eyes were bloodshot, dark circles were forming under them, and her hair appeared as if it hadn't met a brush in years. _The straightening solution must have worn off…I guess I'll have to make another batch tonight. _Turning on the cold water, she splashed her face a few times and patted her face with a towel. Leaning and staring into the sink, she wondered if her dark, encircled eyes had been too noticeable. 

"I believe you were using my towel." An icy voice from behind her stated.

Hermione's heart stopped. Her head snapped up, and in the mirror, a figure with a pair of pale green eyes stared back. 

The figure held out her hand. "Well?" 

Hermione could feel the adrenaline circulating throughout her body. It made her nervous, fidgety. Nervous was the last thing she wanted to look like in front of her adversary. "Oh…Umm…Here," she said, shoving the towel into Quiana's hand and quickly averting her gaze back to the sink.

"Thanks." Pivoting on her heel, Quiana was instantly on her way out of the bathroom.

__

Hermione, you are such an idiot. You are probably the largest idiot in Hogwarts. Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

She walked away from the sink and sat on the ground, her back to a wall. Her head relaxed against the cold ceramic.

__

When will this torture end?

~ * ~ *

Draco ran a hand through his hair. He had been brooding in front of the Slytherin common room fire for a while now. _I just don't get it. The Book of Legends said that the Holders of the Dragon and Blade staff were supposed to be "together forever". I mean, I guess I'm doing my part…sort of. But she's the one who's going against everything--I don't understand. I could have any girl I want; they've always fallen at my feet, desperate for my attention. So why should she be any different?_

As Pansy traipsed her way down the stairs to the common room, she spied Draco staring into the fire, deep in thought. His black Slytherin House shirt reflected a dark green from the glow of the fire. Plastering on her most 'alluring' smile, she slid up to the plush chair in which he was sitting.

"What's wrong, Draco? Has that Gryffindor tramp been bothering you again?" she drawled, each word sickly sweet.

He sighed. Frankly, he was getting very tired of this fat thing named Pansy. Compared to Quiana, whom Pansy herself had labeled a 'tramp', Pansy might as well have been a piece of trash strewn aside in the streets of Diagon Alley. 

"Pansy, you know I don't like to talk about my personal issues 1) with you and 2) in the common room." He sneered vehemently. "Honestly, Pansy, if I didn't know better, you were probably trying to pump me for information to spread to your other fat friends. Oh, pardon me, my mistake. You don't have any other friends. Of course, if you did, they'd look just like you."

Pansy appeared instantly taken aback. Her eyes welled as if she had just been slapped. She cast her eyes to the ground, lest the coldness come again. 

"I would never do that, Draco…Never," she said, shaking her head as if she was trying to convince herself.

Draco smirked. He allowed some of the icy steel to seep from his immovable stare.

Pansy whimpered at the first brush of ice. 

__

My job is done here. Draco didn't even bother to turn around and apologize for nearly giving Pansy a nervous breakdown. _It's people like Pansy that give Slytherin a bad name._ He simply left the common room and headed for the Great Hall for breakfast. _Quiana…_ the memory of her standing so close to him flickered across his mind like a bolt of lightning. Draco quickened his pace. He couldn't wait to see her, even if she wasn't looking at him. _That's it. You're officially insane._

~ * ~ *

Harry barely caught a glimpse of a girl walking slowly toward the Great Hall. Noticing the long, dark hair, he called, "Hey Quiana," but there was no response. "Quiana?"

The girl turned around to glare at Harry.

"It's Hermione," she snarled.

Harry looked honestly startled. Hermione didn't look anything like her usual, composed self. Her hair was a mess and her eyes looked seriously bloodshot and swollen; like she had been up late, crying… he approached closer and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked, already predicting what her response was going to be.

Angrily, she pushed his arm away. "Does it look like I'm okay?" she shot back. "I'm losing everything and everyone I love to that…that bitch!" Tears that she had been holding back finally spilled over.

"You mean me? Or Malfoy? Come on, Hermione, you know Ron and I will always be there for you. And Malfoy, just leave him. He wasn't worthy of someone like you."

Harry's voice offered some consolation, but not enough for Hermione. 

"I wish I could believe you," she sobbed. "But you don't understand how I feel. I'm so confused, Harry, and I don't want to be. They're destined to be together, Harry. So the whole time he was with me was a lie; it was all just one big lie." She sobbed again, this time louder, attracting the temporary stares of a few Ravenclaw first years running by to get a bite of breakfast.

Harry frowned. "I thought you were over all that Divination crap."

Hermione shook her head violently and turned away from him. "It's different Harry, Draco is the Holder of the Dragon Staff."

"I know that, Hermione, but what difference does that make?"

Hermione whirled around. Her face was streaked with tears. "Quiana is too! She's the Holder of the Blade!"

Harry blanched. If there was one thing interesting in Professor Binns' class, it was the Legend of the 4 Holders of the Staff. His favorite had undoubtedly been the Sun Staff, which governed the power of lightness and darkness. But it was impossible that there was a Holder of the Blade Staff. Its power was unrivaled; it was barely held in check by the Sun Staff. He had heard Professor Binns tell the class that many wizards and witches from all over the world had tried to control it but the Blade would respond to none but its designated Holder. It was prophesized that the only one who could tame the fire of the Holder of the Blade Staff was the Holder of the Dragon Staff…Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. 

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry sighed exasperatedly. _I'm never going to get to Potions on time if I stay here moping with her. Neither will she, unless we haul ass, oh, right about NOW._ "Look, Hermione, if you don't have a date for the upcoming Yule Ball…"

Hermione turned away. "I don't need your goddamned sympathy. I need Draco," and with that, she ran off to Potions, obviously skipping breakfast, with Harry fast on her tail.

~ * ~ *

(_Snape's Potions Dungeon, midmorning_)

"Did any of you besides Mr. Malfoy study the effects of the Darbulb potion? If I'm not mistaken, that was the homework I assigned for you yesterday." Snape asked in a tired voice. He raised one greasy eyebrow at his Gryffindor and Slytherin class and made a slight clicking sound with his tongue.

"I'd have thought of you as better than to forget to do your homework," he glared menacingly at the usually attentive Hermione. "I could be much harder on you, but since I am such a benevolent teacher, I assigned a simple reading assignment in your _Modern Usage of Potions_." 

He fixed an eye on Hermione. "Ms. Granger, what are the key ingredients to the success of the Darbulb potion? And whilst you are thinking, please do tell us about its uses also."

Hermione's eyes appeared glazed and uninhabited, like she wasn't really in class, but in another dimension.

Quiana frowned. _Something's on her mind…_

"Ms. Granger, I need an answer." Snape sneered, in an evident condescending tone. "We don't have all day, you know."

Aware of Snape's evident prejudice but willing to defend her fellow Gryffindor, Quiana reluctantly raised her hand. 

Snape's grease combed eyebrows lifted in surprise. (Or what appeared to be surprise.)

"Ms. Llewellyn?" 

__

Wow, someone remembered my name…or at least part of it, Quiana thought.

"Are you trying to help Ms. Granger on this very difficult question about the Darbulb potion? Which I have to mention, again, that it was indeed your homework assignment last night."

Even the most retarded Slytherin could probably have detected Snape's sarcasm.

"No, actually, I simply have the answer to your very difficult query about the Darbulb potion." She was careful to enunciate the 'very', just as Snape had done. Her retort elicited a few snickers from the Gryffindor side of the dungeon. A flush of color came to Snape's hollow cheeks. 

"Well then, if you're so positive about it, do give it to us."

Quiana cleared her throat and proceeded to talk up a slew of uses and ingredients for the Darbulb potion. "First, you need to collect 3 hairs from the mane of the King Unicorn, 1/2 inch cut roots from the dewbulb, and the dried cartilage of the adolescent Leviathan. The potion is generally used for medicinal purposes--as active ingredients in healing salves and repellents. When the mixture is entirely liquefied, it makes a useful disinfectant on specific surfaces, such as dragon-hide or skinned hippogriff…" she paused to shudder at the thought of seeing a hippogriff without its skin. Snape immediately pounced on the chance to comment.

"Quite 'impressive', Ms. Llewellyn, but I'm afraid you were lacking in naming all of the uses of the potion…"

Quiana checked her fingernails, without looking up at Snape. She didn't feel like giving him any more respect than he had given her.

"I wasn't exactly finished explaining."

Snape's nostrils flared. His sallow face slowly boiled to a pink. "Are you being impudent, Ms. Llewellyn?" he said through gritted teeth. Nobody had ever given Snape this much trouble, needless to say a Gryffindor student!

__

Uh-oh. She's going to get it now…that is, if I don't do something… Draco thought. His hand shot up, distracting Snape.

"Professor Snape, I think our class has gone a bit over the schedule."

Snape ungritted his teeth and relaxed. He seemed to forget his verbal spar match with Quiana as his cheesy smile returned. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. You are all dismissed. Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, forget to do your homework assignment tonight, else face the consequences tomorrow morning."

__

I could have handled Snape myself. Why did he have to butt in? Maybe that's his problem, sticking his ass into things he shouldn't. Quiana thought darkly as she stalked out of the dungeon. A newly attached poster caught her eye as she was almost about to pass it in the corridor. _Hogwarts' Annual Yule Ball…singles welcome…formal attire. Why not? _Giggling like a first year, she almost skipped down the hall before she caught herself. 

~ * ~ *

Draco lay still in his bed. It was well after midnight, and he was still wide-awake. He couldn't believe it. The Annual Yule Ball was closing in, and his life was flying by. One day, he was just another rich and powerful Slytherin, heir to the Malfoy Empire. But along came Mia--Hermione--and all of the sudden he was one of the Chosen Holders… And now he had met Quiana, the fourth Holder, who held the reins of his heart and jerked him around like there was no tomorrow. Although she was in full power over him, she had yet to even begin to like his personality. All she saw was the proud, arrogant Draco who could never care about anyone but himself. _Just like Hermione when we first started going out…God, why do you always have to let your stupid ego get in the way? Along comes the perfect girl for you and all you can do back is be your egotistical self and push her away. Few people ever stood up to Snape, needless to say anyone from Gryffindor. Even Hermione didn't do anything that gutsy. _He was about to think about his dream girl a little more when the rustle of feathers at his window interrupted him.

"Aurum," he breathed. Harsh, golden eyes glinted in the darkness. A letter, bearing the Malfoy family crest, was attached to its leg. He nearly pushed the owl out of the window in his hurry to recover the letter. Upon seeing the dark gray feathers, he knew that this was his mother's owl now. She had long been obsessed with the color of gray--ever since she revealed to him that he had a half-sister named Celeste. Hurriedly untying the letter, he predicted it was just another message from his mother asking for a visit during the holidays. _Father would rather go to Dumbledore and tell him that he would like me to come home, instead of writing to me personally. _Lucius never liked to write personal letters to anyone, needless to say his son. 

Draco instantly recognized his mother's neat handwriting. 

Dearest Draco,

The end of another year is quickly approaching. It seems like only yesterday that I was wishing you good luck for your first year at Hogwarts. Oh, Draco, it reminds me so much of my prime years spent there…your father and I would love to see you again, we miss you so. I cannot wait to hear what exciting news you will bring from school this year. I can hardly wait to see how much my darling son has grown during the brief period of a year. Your father and I wish you the best in hopes that you will graduate from Hogwarts with top honors, as we know you will. It is my deepest hope and wish that you have been completely happy in your year with your classmates; you will learn to cherish these years as you grow into a successful and young man. You know, Draco, if you have anything you feel you need to talk about, you know that I am always here to listen and offer what advice I can give. Please send me (us) an owl to let me (us) when you can come home as soon as possible. I miss you so much.

Wishing you all the best-- Mother

Narcissa Malfoy

Mistress of Malfoy Manor

__

How classic; Mummy dearest wants to see me before we ring in the New Year. I bet Father made her write that letter so I wouldn't be suspicious of whatever plans he has involving me… A chill washed over him like a bucket of ice. _Could Father know about Quiana? It was highly possible; after all, the Dark Lord had eyes and ears everywhere. He knew just about everything. No matter,_ he tried to shrug off his internal fear. _I have to set my priorities straight._ He carefully folded the letter from his mother and shoved it in one of his desk drawers. Taking out a small piece of paper, he wrote his top 3 priorities: 1) keeping his marks at a healthy level; frankly, they were heading for a nosedive if he didn't start to concentrate more. 2) Writing back to Mum and telling her he'd visit after the Ball. 3) Figure out how to win Quiana over. Putting down his quill, he hope that the teachers would be just as excited as the students--and forget about their exams in the process, because he was sure that priority number three would probably end up swallowing the other two.

~ * ~ *

__

(Transfiguration, afternoon the next day)

Quiana tapped her fingers on the cherry wood desk. So far the day was boring and this class was becoming increasingly boring by the second. Certainly not the subject itself; she enjoyed the way Professor McGonagall taught, but her classmates seldom did anything to catch her attention. Her gaze wandered to the nearby desk of annoyingly chatty Ravenclaw girls. They were whispering obviously to each other and flashing frequent glances in Quiana's direction. She leaned her head on her shoulder but perked up her hearing to listen in on their conversation.

"…Oh, my gosh, I know! I heard that Mexican lobos or something raised her…"

"But she doesn't look Mexican…"

"Stupid, if Cho's really her **half**-sister, she couldn't be Mexican. I say she's the daughter of some whore Cho's father accidentally got drunk with," a blonde haired, brown eyed girl commented while studying her hair in a compact mirror. Then, with a serious look, "It's her eyes that bother me though. She must have done a spell on herself to get them look that colorless of a green-gray."

Quiana could feel her face getting hot. Her thoughts became clouded with violence. She could barely listen to Professor McGonagall describe the spell to transform living things into inanimate objects for a short period of time. _Wait till I find out their names…_she thought angrily.

Professor McGonagall's sharp voice pierced the dead air. "Daniella Lilith!" 

The blonde beauty queen forced her gaze away from the mirror. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?" she replied sweetly.

"What, may I ask, do you find so interesting with your little looking-glass there?"

"Why Professor, I was … erm…" the blonde looked around frantically for a scapegoat, but found none. 

Quiana's head snapped up. Her eyes brightened. "Professor McGonagall? I believe Daniella was endeavoring to use one of your spells in order to drastically change the image she viewed in her looking-glass."

Daniella's complexion instantly morphed into a vivid, cherry red. "I was not!" she denied indignantly.

Professor McGonagall's hands flew to her temples. "That's enough from the both of you! Ms. Lilith, you will not touch that looking glass for the rest of the time you are in this classroom, and Ms. Llewellyn, when I need your comments, I will ask for them! Do you understand or must I assign you girls each a detention?"

Both Daniella and Quiana lowered their eyes and stared at the desks as they answered meekly, "Yes, Professor."

Thoughts cycled endlessly through Quiana's mind…_Dear me; I think she thinks I'm competition. Fine, have it her way. _

Quiana glared at Daniella across the desk. The blonde whimpered as the twin orbs of green ice were fixed on her. She felt as if two hands had closed themselves on her soul; she was slipping into complete coldness… And suddenly she was released from their grasp. 

"Daniella, are you okay?"

"…She's waking up! Everybody give her some air!" 

Daniella shook her head and steadied her blurry vision. She put her hands to her hot cheeks. They felt numb and icy. "…What happened? Does anyone mind filling me in on what just happened to me?" she demanded haughtily, instantly defending her reputation as the Ravenclaw queen.

One of her loyal subjects placed a hand on her shoulder. "You fainted, Daniella."

Daniella let out a high pitched laugh. "Me? Faint? That's not possible, I must have breathed in something, asphyxiated, and lost consciousness from the lack of oxygen to my brain. There has to be a logical reason behind it," she nervously searched for reasons. Her reputation as the high class Ravenclaw was at stake. 

"It's true!" Another subject piped up from behind her. "All of the sudden you just fell out of your chair and started shivering…Professor McGonagall was so worried she went to get Madam Pomfrey…"

Daniella was confused. She couldn't remember anything that had just happened to her. Everything didn't make sense…everything was shrouded in a thick mist…all she could recall was that she felt like she was slowly freezing to death…

Madam Pomfrey pushed through the gaggle of students. "Out of the way, there's nothing to see. Miss Daniella, are you well enough to walk to the infirmary wing or do you need assistance?" Madam Pomfrey held her wand at the ready.

"I'm fine," Daniella, protested, pushing away her subjects and struggling to stand. Feeling dizzy, she took a few steps before nearly collapsing on the closest desk. 

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disgust. "Children today, thinking they know everything about healing. Come, come, Daniella, you are not fit to walk by yourself. Wingardium Leviosa." 

Quiana watched as Daniella was carted off. She began to smile, but it was wiped away as quickly as it was started. A prickly sense of shame and embarrassment crept over her. _I shouldn't have let myself get carried away…I could have killed her…I hate my life, but most of all I hate me…_She put her hands to her face and covered her eyes; the same eyes that nearly killed Daniella Lilith. _Life is such a struggle._

Meanwhile, Hermione had been watching the whole situation unfold from afar. She realized that Quiana was much more powerful than she appeared to be. Even as the Holder of the Blade, that could not have given her the power to freeze people from within just by looking at them. _I almost feel sorry for her…she carries so much on her shoulders…_suddenly her jealousy and spite returned. _Well, it's her problem. All the better for her. Miss Perfect isn't so perfect (or nice) after all._

~ * ~ *

__

(That night, Gryffindor 7th year girls' dorm)

Angelica was putting on more make-up, although she could not possibly need any more than she already had on.

"Why don't you come with me this time, Quiana? All you do up here is lay around and mope anyway. You'd have fun, and plus, you'll get to meet new people…" she prodded while powdering her face for the twentieth time.

Quiana stared up at the ceiling, her hands folded on her chest. 

"I had a bad day again. I don't feel like going out." She replied simply. 

"Oh, come on. Give me a better excuse--that's what you said last time," Angelica laughed as she tapped her many make-up containing jars with her wand. 

"Well, when I think of a better one I'll tell you." Quiana retorted from her bed. 

Angelica rolled her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I'm trying to do my part as your friend, dear. If you don't come with me I think I'll simply have to drag you kicking and screaming."

"You do that…" Quiana trailed off, rolling onto her side.

Angelica sighed exasperatedly and put her hands on her hips. "I wasn't planning on telling you this because I wanted him for myself--"

Quiana rolled over and sat up in the blink of an eye. "Who?" 

Angelica's eyes widened in surprise. She had never seen someone react that quickly to any of her comments. "I heard from Lavender that Harry Potter was going to be there, and I didn't really want to tell you because I wanted him for myself." She turned back toward the dresser mirror. "Ah, selfish me." She laughed.

Quiana hopped off the bed. "Fine, I'll go," she relented exaggeratedly, moving toward her closet. "So what do I wear?" she asked the now gawking Angelica.

~ * ~ *

The party was more like a small coed get-together of some Ravenclaw and Gryffindor seventh years. It wasn't anything wild; nothing like the raves Quiana heard so much about when she was in the Muggle world. _So why does Angelica always come back so trashed?_ Her eyes answered her own question--there were drinks everywhere. Spilled margarita mix and vodka stained the ground. Loud and soft conversations were everywhere; some people were all over each other. Quiana looked away in disgust. This was a mess. _What is this, alcohol happy hour? I so shouldn't have come._ The moment they stepped through the threshold of the once-storage room of the Astronomy Tower, Angelica hurried in the opposite direction to retrieve her nightly boost. Quiana wandered about in wonder--_this place is actually pretty big for a storage room…_a hand was placed gently on her shoulder. Instinctively, her right arm flew across her chest and grabbed the wrist of the hand on her shoulder, whirled around, and brought the foreign arm behind the back of its owner. It was a guy; he had on a Gryffindor Quidditch practice shirt (there was a lion on the back of it, plus the fact that 'Gryffindor' was written in a large script along with the lion) and loose black jeans that matched his hair color. 

"Is this how you greet everyone?" the guy asked, trying to release his pinned back arms from her iron grip. 

"That depends on how you greet me." Quiana responded. Then, deciding that he wasn't going to try and attack her, she freed him from the broken arm position. When she saw his face she was so startled her usually pale complexion actually turned a reddish hue. "Harry? Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…are you okay?" 

Harry stretched his arm. Little jolts of electricity ran through the nerves. "Yeah, I think it'll be back to full mobility in about 6 months," he smiled at his own dry humor. 

Quiana sighed. "I don't think I'm meant to be in society without hurting at least one person."

"Malfoy can't be in society without at least traumatizing someone for life, so you're not as bad. Come on, my arm's not that bad off…how'd you learn to disable someone so fast?" Harry said while shaking his arm.

She shrugged. "It was something I picked up, I guess. I think I'd better leave…I don't really fit in."

Harry looked around him bemusedly. "I don't think I really belong here either. This was Ron's idea… He wanted to get out of the dorm for a while. He should be around here someplace, talking to some Ravenclaw girl…" 

"What is with Gryffindor guys and Ravenclaw girls?" Quiana laughed. "You'd think that Gryffindor girls had some sort of invisible repellent against you guys."

Harry blushed at the thought of Cho, but it quickly evaporated as it had appeared. 

"We don't have anything against Gryffindor girls…" he defended unconvincingly.

"Uh huh… sure…" she gave him a knowing glance. "Look, I really don't want to be surrounded by these booze addicts, so I'm going to head back to the common room and try to get some studying done…I'll see you later then," she gave him a cursory wave and started to walk when he ran to catch up with her.

"Wait…I'll come with you."

~ * ~ *

(_Gryffindor Common room, 1 AM)_

Quiana yawned. "No seriously, Harry, your aunt Petunia could never compare to what my drunk mother was like…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Try adding a pissed off Uncle Vernon and a ravenous whale named Dudley to the mix. I'd like to see you kick his ass."

"Bring it on," she said mockingly. 

"Don't you ever get tired of being the unofficially named 'head girl', the untouchable ice queen, the dominatrix to rival McGonagall? I mean, I'm pretty sure that every 7th year girl is jealous of you, and who you are…" Harry rested his chin on his hands. The fireplace in the common room was still going, and it burned as brightly as it did when he first arrived at Hogwarts. He sat on a wine-colored, cushioned couch facing Quiana on the opposite loveseat, and they had both been talking since the 'encounter' at the party.

"They have no idea of who I am. No one knows what it's like to be me…" Quiana let her gaze wander to the flames. They were so natural, so beautiful, and so utterly perfect. _If only life were that simple…_

"Well then, what is it like to be you? No one can understand if you don't open up and tell someone." He pointed out. 

__

The boy does have a good point, she thought wearily. Keeping up her cold front was often a difficult and trying task. "I suppose you want to be the first to know what's behind this face of mine."

Harry shrugged. "It's not important whether you confide in me or anyone else, just the fact that telling someone might release some stress."

Quiana motioned to the cushion next to her and sighed, "Sit by me, I want to show you something."

A blush slowly crept up his neck. He rubbed it with his hands in an attempt to return it to normal color. 

"Are you sure?" he said hesitantly.

She folded her arms as a sign of slight impatience. "Would you like to know or not?"

"Okay, okay."

Harry climbed off his couch and settled next to her. _She even smells like Cho_, he thought, catching a faint scent of the cherry blossom, mixed with a stronger citrus scent, somewhat orange-like. Taking out her wand, she whispered a short incantation and within a cloud of green smoke, an old, heavy photo album appeared on her lap.

"Nifty trick you've got there," he commented.

"I'm sure you have plenty that are better," she replied, flipping open the book, causing a few green dust particles to scatter into the air. "It's a locking spell my grandma taught me for keeping personal things strictly personal."

"She wouldn't have taught it to you if she didn't think you had something to hide," he commented.

"Smart boy," she smiled. "Check out this picture…that was my mom and dad's wedding picture. This is the only copy I have. God knows what my mom did with hers."

The photo remained fully intact. A regal, smiling woman and a tall man with light green eyes stood side by side in front of a majestic background of tropical landscape. 

"This picture was taken a few years before my dad was murdered. I didn't get a hold of it until my grandma gave it to me. Then again, I didn't even get it until I turned 14…that was when I first met my grandma Ophelia. Out of the blue, she sends me an owl telling me that she wants me to come live in Liverpool with her." She turned a thick page.

Harry leaned over her shoulder. "Is that you?" he pointed to a small, unhappy looking girl posing with her mother.

"How'd you guess?" she said sarcastically. "This was a picture of my mom and me, 2 or 3 months after my father first disappeared. Half a year later the police decided to drop the bomb on my mother. They told her that he had been found dead, apparently murdered by a notorious gang called the Death's Angels. Ironic, isn't it? It's not all that common for Death to be associated with angels." 

She yawned, but Harry was enthralled. _She has such a rich history,_ he thought. He looked past her and back into the fire. Her serious, dark silhouette against the flames made her appear like Cho, but with a stronger and sharper edge. _Her eyes are incredible… the twin orbs of the lightest green._ Slowly stretching out his hand, he shifted closer and moved a stray lock of hair from her face. 

"Your eyes are beautiful," he said softly.

She made no reply, only stared back in wonder. "Harry?" she asked unconsciously. Her body felt loose; she was too tired to keep up her guard.

He leaned forward, but instead of kissing her, his lips simply brushed her cheek and his head landed on the corner of where her neck and shoulder were joined. His eyes were half-lidded already as he smiled at her.

Quiana's heart rate was through the roof. She couldn't believe what just happened. _Deep breath, deep breath. _She gripped the armrest tighter. _Is this reality? Or am I just…dream…ing…_ Enveloped in a state of relaxation, she surrendered to sleep.

~ * ~ *

Lavender pranced happily down the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

"It's a beautiful day, no?" She screeched to a halt when she came upon Harry and Quiana, still sleeping in front of the fireplace. Her head was on top of his, and he was settled comfortably on her shoulder. 

"My goodness, what have we here?" she squealed with girlish glee. "Wait till Parvati hears about this…"

She skipped quite zealously all the way to the Great Hall.

~ * ~ * 

(Great Hall, Breakfast)

Lavender kept her promise. By the time Hermione and Ron had arrived at the Great Hall, the Gryffindor table was abuzz with the gossip. Or, at least the girl's section.

"Go ahead, Parvati, you tell them." Lavender beamed like a proud teacher.

Parvati grinned back, then proceeded to spill the news. "Lav was innocently on her way to the Hall when she beheld the two--"

"The two what?" Hermione interrupted quickly. She knew where this was going. It was always the same with Lavender, Parvati and the other gossip-hungry vultures. She had been the subject of their slanders so many times it wasn't even worth the effort to quell it because it disappeared within seconds of a fresh scandal. 

Parvati's face grew taut upon glancing at Hermione. "Oh, nothing. Just that Harry and that new girl were found sleeping in the common room. On the same couch." Parvati made sure to emphasize 'same'. 

Hermione couldn't find the words to speak. Grabbing Ron's arm, she turned around and dragged him to an empty space at the end of the Gryffindor table, as far away as possible from Lavender and Parvati's little crew.

"What, what, Hermione? Do you mind letting a little blood flow through my arm, at least?" Ron shook free of her grip. "And what was up with you and Lavender talking? I know you, and somewhat Lavender, and you two never get along."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "This isn't about me or Lavender being insular, this is about what she said." She looked Ron straight in the eye. "Do you think it's true?"

"Think what's true?" Ron pretended to evade the question, staring up at the banners that decorated the Hall.

She folded her arms. "Are you really that obtuse? Just answer the question."

Ron's cheeks flushed as he replied angrily, "What is this, Herm, a bloody interrogation? Harry's business is his and his alone. We're his friends, Hermione, or at least I am. If he feels like telling me about his little romp with Quiana, I'll be glad that he wants to share it with me, but even if he doesn't that won't matter all that much to me."

Hermione instantly backed off. Ron was usually passive, but if threatened he could be quite mean.

"Ron, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me, I can't stand the thought of having more people mad at me already. Truly, I didn't mean to be harsh with you. It's just that--"

"That what? Herm, you've been acting like this since school began. When are you going to tell Harry or me what's so bothering? And don't try telling me it's the NEWTs, you've taken harder stress than that before." 

"It's not just the NEWTs, Ron, it's also the fact that I'm under a lot of … emotional … stress, which is the only way I can explain it." Hermione rubbed her head, hand shaking. "This year hasn't been going so well for me."

"I can tell," Ron said, sitting down beside her. Putting his arm around her, he grinned and said, "Cheer up, Herm, just think--it's almost Christmas, and the Yule Ball is coming up…if you picture the year in weeks it goes by much quicker."

Hermione made a feeble attempt at a smile. _Count on Ron to always have a 'brighter' side to life,_ she thought. "Thank you, Ron, for sharing with me your profound method of speeding up time."

Ron's attention was instantly swept away when he spied Harry approaching the table. "Ah, Sleeping Beauty has awakened," he laughed quietly. 

Harry straightened his glasses. "Hey Ron, Herm. I suppose I didn't miss much, did I?"

"Not much," she said, with a trace of falsetto in her voice. She looked around for someone invisible. _I really should let out my true feelings to Harry; it's not fair to him for me to harbor a grudge when I don't even have that great of a reason…_she thought guiltily. _But I don't need the extra tension between us._ "I'll see you guys later, I'm going to the library to do research on Euclid." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You said that Arithmancy report on Euclid was due last week."

A tiny bit of pink colored her pale cheeks. "Oh, well… I need to go to the library anyway. Good bye."

She left the table and practically ran out of the Hall. 

Harry sat down in her place, next to Ron. "I don't suppose that was her 'normal' state, was it?"

Ron shrugged. "These days, who knows what 'normal' is anymore?"

~ * ~ *

Draco was seething with rage; at both himself and Potter. The gossip about Harry and Quiana had just reached him. He didn't even know why he felt so angry and jealous. _You don't even know if any of that rubbish is true. And moreover, why should you care about Potter's business?_ He slammed his fist hard on the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle merely continued shoving food obliviously down their throats. As he reached to seize his silver goblet, a blinding flash quickly and suddenly overpowered his mind.

Flash 

__

A door, a large and thick door; Draco stood on emptiness, but all he was conscious of was that one door in front of him. It shook terribly, then creaked open; slowly and torturously. From the open door, a gray mist poured forth like an open floodgate. The fog curled around his feet and rose up to his shins. The fog was an unnatural shade of gray, like storm clouds that washed over his mind, body and soul. It called to him, pulled at him, dragging him to the edge--the boundary between two worlds. The darkness enclosed him in its chilly embrace. Thrashing about, it was no use. The inter-space was dead, silent. _No one can hear you scream_. His heartbeat echoed in his brain. It was the only sound that could be heard. But a small pool of light was ahead of him. All he could do was watch helplessly as a tall, slim woman appeared, dressed in black silk and shrouded in shadow. The only features of her face he could see were her eyes. _Two bottomless lagoons of the lightest green._ Her eyes bore into him, peering into his soul. He felt so alone in front of them, so judged. 

"Quiana?" He called to her, uncertainly.

The figure tilted her head, and the black silk flowed around her like a dark cloud.

She parted her lips, but no sound emerged. Seemingly noticing her dysfunction, she stopped, and instead, held out her hand, as if in offering. 

Her fingers were that of Quiana's, long and slim, built for the arts, but he noticed nothing on them but the gleaming silver ring in her palm. It was crafted of wrought silver, with emeralds and amethysts embedded on the outside. There was a message carved on the inside, but he could not get close enough to read what it said. But soon his arrogant second nature overwhelmed him, and his face regained the cold sneer that he had used many times before. 

"Go away, you MudBlood tainted filth!" He screamed instinctively. 

He turned and forced himself over the boundary, then slammed the heavy door behind him shut. 

Behind the door, the figure's eyes narrowed. The only sound that Draco could hear were not her footsteps, but the sound of cold metal falling on the floor.

End flash 

Draco opened his eyes. His mind was still whirling after the blinding flash. His thoughts were completely occupied with the mysterious figure. _And the ring…where did that come from? _

"I'm going crazy, that's all… there's too much stress in this damn school…damn father and his stupid 'honors'. Damn this whole bloody life of mine."

A low, soft voice reached his ears. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one here with stress," The voice was followed by a light scent of orange, and a sleek, swaying ponytail. 

His eyes widened. _That's her…_ Unbeknownst to himself, he stood up and began to follow her back. "Wait," he called out to the figure.

She halted, and turned as if professionally trained in the military. She had a smile on her face, thinking it was one of her roommates in the Gryffindor Tower, but it quickly disappeared as she recognized Draco.

"It's you," was her acknowledgement of him. She raised her eyebrow and glanced longingly at the large clock in the Great Hall. "What could you possibly want with me? I don't have time for dabbling, please make it quick."

Draco's heart pounded in his chest. _She actually looked friendly when she was smiling…Snap out of it, Draco, what are you doing? _"I need to talk to you," he blurted.

"And what do you supposed you were doing right now?" She retorted, picking a stray piece of lint off her robes. "I'm leaving."

"No, wait," he reached out and seized her by the arm. _She's too close to slip away now, _he thought, strangely excited. "It's important. Please, trust me."

Quiana's own pulse quickened. _Why would he want me to trust him? And what could be so important that he wants to talk to me about?_ She thought. "Why should I?" she protested feebly. Her guard against him was weakening; she felt it crumbling before her. 

"Just trust me," he said, pleading with his eyes. 

__

Stones of gray…stones of gray…his eyes are exactly like the ones in my dream, she thought. _Am I a complete lunatic or am I just experiencing déjà vu? I can take care of myself, I can probably meet him after Potions class…No! You're not giving in…but why not?_

"Fine," she relented. "If you wouldn't mind letting go of me first."

His next statement caused her to almost lose her balance and consciousness.

"No, Quiana." His eye color darkened a few shades. "I'm never letting you go."

~ * ~ *

(Great Hall, almost time for the first class)

"What do you mean?" she asked, bewildered. Her other arm poised itself against his wrist. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you force me."

__

So independent, wild, free… Draco shook his head, as if coming out of his trance. "No, no, I didn't mean it that way…I didn't mean anything…I mean…"

Pushing his wrist away gently, she gave him a sad, small smile. "You don't have to say it. I have extra time after Potions, I'll talk to you then." With that, she turned and walked away.

Draco breathed in deeply. _The irony of it all,_ he thought to himself as he turned in the opposite direction, back to the Slytherin table. 

~ * ~ *

(After Potions, just outside the dungeons)

Quiana leaned her head against the wall. _You idiot! Why did you agree to meet that pompous, arrogant, white-haired snob? What the bloody hell were you thinking? _She closed her eyes and hugged her books to her chest. _Life could not possibly get more ironic than this. I hate him, yet I still can't completely resist him. Sweet irony, if there is such a thing. That's what Grandma would say…_

"Quiana…" The lack of rudeness in his voice was surprising. 

"Draco," she said, partially taken by surprise.

"Come with me," he said, after getting her attention. "I don't want anyone to follow us."

Quiana gave him a withering look. "Is there something you wanted to hide with me?"

"Yes." He replied, and commenced walking quickly in the southeasterly direction. Reluctantly, she followed behind him, mumbling something about being insane. 

"And why are we in the Library?" she whispered to him, slightly confused, but oddly thrilled. 

Draco extended his wand hand and put the other to his lips. Quiana hesitated. _Is this going a bit far? Suck it up, you're already here. You might as well just go along with it. _She took his hand, shivering a bit from its coldness. He drew her into the shadows and around the library. Opening what appeared to be a random door, he motioned her to go inside and proceeded to shut the door.

"Lumos!" he muttered, lighting the once dark area. "This is the old Transfiguration classroom. I remember having my First and Second year classes in here."

Littered about were ancient desks and chairs. Cobwebs on the ceiling gave it an eerie, ghostly feel.

Draco unwillingly released Quiana's hand. It had made him so happy that she was finally opening up to him, at least somewhat.

"I suppose by now you're wondering why I asked you to meet me."

"Actually, dear sir, I've been wondering that since you approached me in the Great Hall."

Ignoring her reply, he continued to tell her about his visions. The one he received when he touched the silver goblet was not the first. For many nights, the figure in black silk had chased him through his dreams. And now, he was coming face to face with her.

"Quiana, for the past few nights and occasional days I've been haunted by images. Images of darkness, but also of light. The most common one is a door, opening into a separate dimension or realm, whatever you'd like to call it. But that's not what bothers me. It's the fact that that door opens into another life, a life that I had before. I don't know how, or when, or where. Feelings and thoughts overwhelm my mind. Sometimes I'm there with my Dragon Staff, sometimes I'm not." Draco took a deep breath. "The thing I see the most frequently is a pair of eyes. Not just any eyes, because they have a certain jewel-like quality to them."

Quiana was interested, but at the same time, she could not understand his point. "That's all nice and dandy, Draco, but what does this have to do with me? I must inform you, I'm no dream reader. Just because you have your Dragon Staff with you in a few dreams doesn't mean that it has anything to do with me."

"But that's the whole point. It has everything to do with you. I know that these two eyes I keep seeing belong to a woman that I loved and loved me. And now, I've finally figured out whose eyes they belong to." Draco shifted his gaze towards the ground, then back up and straight into her eyes. He took a step closer to her, so that both of their eyes were barely a few inches apart. "They're yours," he said as he leaned forward and kissed her.

~ * ~ *

(Forbidden Forest)

"My Lord, you summoned." Lucius Malfoy nodded his head towards a red, glowing figure.

Voldemort lifted his wand, and in a bored tone ordered, "Crucio."

Lucius crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain. He knew once more the pain of a creature in its death throes.

"My Lord--why?" he managed to squeeze out of his pained throat, also sparing enough energy to clutch at Voldemort's robes.

"Two very good reasons, Lucius, my pet. One, you did not bow to me, the Dark Lord. You may be one of the highest of Death Eaters, but that does not make you above giving respect to your superior." Voldemort's eyes flashed black, then returned to their blood red color. "Second, you have not watched your heir closely enough. Events are occurring that could endanger the whole of the Dark Side, even with the seed of loyal followers already being planted."

Suddenly, Voldemort let fly a harsh kick into Lucius' already spasming side. "Furthermore, you will never again demand reasons from your master! Ever!" Relaxing, he ended the torture. "Finite Incantatem."

"Never, never again, my Lord, I beg forgiveness," said Lucius in a broken tone. "But, my Lord, the Alterius Spell--"

"Fool," Voldemort spat. "It has already begun. We have put too much trust in the girl's willpower. The power of the Code of Evangelia is too great. Their predestined match surpasses the strength of the Alterius. But this will not be an easy path for them. Evangelia may have their destinies entwined, but Slytherins and Gryffindors were never meant to be together." 

"My Lord, surely Draco does not love this tainted MudBlood?" Lucius seemed shock. He had been too out of touch with his son to be sure.

"The girl's deteriorating front against him as counteracted the effect of the Alterius Spell." Voldemort frowned. "You knew your son was not a fit heir, Lucius. You have failed in that respect." The Dark Lord stroked his wand, waiting impatiently for Lucius' reply.

"It was not I who instilled the love of MudBloods into him, my Lord! It must have been Narcissa!" Lucius protested wildly, flailing his arms. "Yes, I am quite sure it was she!"

"Your marriage was one of stupidity, I could have told you that, had I not been weakened by that imbecilic Potter boy." Voldemort laughed harshly. "Narcissa possesses beauty, but no loyalty. You could never keep your hands off the women, could you Lucius?" 

"I deeply regret my marriage to her, my Lord. I am sorry."

"This will not be the end of your sorrow, Lucius, I can sense it. You think you are controlling them, but in reality, they are the ones in control." Lucius was caught up in the profoundness of his master's statement. Was his docile, manipulated Narcissa controlling him? It seemed impossible.

"Returning to the matter of your disgraceful heir and the tainted MudBlood…"

"My Lord, is there any way to avert the disaster?" Lucius was not even aware of the disaster that would occur.

"You fool, there is no need to avert it with those two. Being Chosen by the Staffs and being of opposite Houses have already cursed them. Lord Salazar and Gryffindor have seen to that." Voldemort pulled out an ancient book and flipped to a page.

__

If ever the Gold and Silver entwine

And disregard the boundary line

If their love is true, t'will survive

If not, but one will remain alive

One will become the Gold one's heir

And one will fall into the Silver's snare

Blood of the old shall replenish the new

Blood of the many for the gain of a few

If the course they steer is of Love

Then of the Curse they are Above

But in the end Destruction will knell

And One will stand where the other fell.

"But my Lord, I do not understand."

"It means, Lucius," Voldemort said condescendingly, "that if they should fall completely in love but eventually fall out, one will become Slytherin's heir and the other Gryffindor's heir. In the end though, only one will come out alive." Voldemort seemed preoccupied with something otherworldly. He seemed lost in a dream. 

"But the rest of it, Master, blood of the old to replenish the new?" 

"The war, my pet, the war…"

~ * ~ *

FINALLY!! The end!! Took me a while, huh? Of this chapter, at least. My thanksgiving present to all of you, thanks to all the rest of the people I said before… AND PLEASE! Have the decency to write a review. Thanks! [jade]


	5. Love thy Enemy

A/n: I've been getting the feeling that some people are worried about Hermione's character. (The fact that she is a little 'out of character', mainly.) But that's my point: to make her out of character. My goal for Hermione was to get her to feel some emotion other than friendship, etc. with Harry and Ron. I figured she might have to go through all that 'love' junk that every other girl in the world goes through, and guessed how she would react to being caught in the midst of all these events happening around her. (Major levels of stress, anyone?) I have been working harder! (^_^) Enjoy!

__

(Dumbledore's office)

"Really, Albus, I understand extra precaution and practicality, but this is just paranoid," said Minerva McGonagall, impatiently. 

"I am not paranoid, Minerva, I can feel something about." Albus Dumbledore sighed and removed his half-crescent spectacles. "It just has yet to surface. Perhaps it is just Christmas; there is an odd feeling in the air. The last time I felt this apprehensive about the feast was James and Sirius' seventh Year." Dumbledore smiled and the creases in his face were lost. "Ah, the memorable time when everyone who tried to kiss under the mistletoe found themselves turned into it."

"Let's not forget the cake that turned Lucius Malfoy into a reindeer with a red nose…And those blasted explosive Christmas crackers." Minerva shook her head. 

"But the best thing was the trick on you, Minerva, absolutely priceless. I can still see the--" 

"Please, Albus. No more discussion of that." Her cheeks colored a slight pink.

"No…enough reminiscing." Dumbledore's face regained its solemnity. "The present and future are concerning enough. I am telling you now, Minerva, for better or worse, something is positively brewing."

Minerva sighed and crossed her arms. "I will keep on the lookout, Albus, but what good does that do if trouble is everywhere nowadays? The Daily Prophet can hardly keep up with all the acts of madness that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named performs."

"I know, Minerva, I know." Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his seat. "Just the same, it would be best if we postponed the Yule Ball until after Christmas. It would be the perfect time for a Death Eater to strike. Everything gets rather disorganized then…"

"Very well, Albus. The students won't be pleased, I'll say that much."

~ * ~ *

__

(Behind the library, in the old Transfiguration classroom)

What is this place? Where am I? And why am I dressed in this funeral wear? Quiana stared down at her feet, shrouded in a mist of black silk. It was almost as if she had no feet, for her clothing blended them into the ground she stood on. _Stay calm, there must be a logical explanation…_She tightened her fists. In one of them, she felt an obstruction of metal. Curiously opening her hand, she peered at the shiny ring in her palm. It was a beautiful piece, with jewels studded in it and even an inscription. Looking closer, she mouthed the inscription:

"_Dulce et amor donec abnocto abs sanusa._" Her forehead creased as she attempted to translate it. _I knew I should have paid more attention in those imbecilic Latin classes…_she thought impatiently. "Sweet is love…when all…is sane…" She could feel the blood rush out of her face. This phrase was taken from a complete saying:

"_Dulce et amor donec abnocto abs sanusa_

Dulce et letum abicio adflictatio

Atrox et letum donec abnocto abs optime

Atrox et amor donec abnocto abs elleborus."

__

Sweet is love when all is sane, sweet is death to rid the pain. Cruel is death when all is well; cruel is love when all is hell. Somehow, I have a feeling I don't want to know what this pertains to, Quiana thought. A strong wind blew by, and out of the smoke appeared a door. She swallowed hard. _Just when I thought things could not have gotten any weirder…_ The door creaked open. A familiar voice reached her ears.

"Quiana?" 

__

Draco. She thought instantly. _Wait a minute, this is his dream. This is his vision._

Back in the real world, Quiana's conscious resurfaced. She pushed him away roughly, breaking the kiss.

She knew she had a terrified look in her eye. "What…what was that?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco seemed sad and a bit hurt. "That…was my vision. You were on the other side, and for a moment we were connected. Except that you took part on your side of the door."

Quiana turned away. She didn't feel like facing him. A layer of her guard felt like it had melted away, leaving her vulnerable and fearful. "But that wasn't the whole thing, was it?"

"No," he sighed, agreeing.

A tensed silence filled the air. Neither wanted to say something for fear of hurting the other.

"Draco--"

"Quiana--" they said, simultaneously.

"You first," he said, offering her a chance to explain.

She laughed. "I thought that…for a moment, I actually thought I liked you. Really, I did. But that was a side of me I didn't want to face. Loving a Slytherin, from a distance, seems attractive…but at the same time I can't help it. Even if I didn't love you, I still have to…"

"What do you mean 'you have to'? You know what I think? I think you're just afraid." Draco said, bitterly. "Afraid of what everyone else will say to what you feel. You know they would shun you for even having the idea of loving a Slytherin."

Quiana's temper slowly began to boil. "If that's what you think, then you can forget about me. I could care less about what everyone else says. Fine, I'll admit it. I am afraid. I hardly even know you, and here you are, ranting about love! I just don't think it will work so fast."

"Well, I do!" Draco hissed angrily. "I do! I'm putting so much more on the line for you, Quiana. Do you have any idea what my father, no, the Dark Lord himself…can you even imagine my fate if he heard those words I just said to you?" 

He seized her shoulders, leaned close and shook her. He stared into her eyes with the same cold power that he exerted over Pansy. Only this time it was stronger, fuelled by his frustration, his fear and his anger. 

To his surprise, Quiana only smiled back at him. Another hypnotic force pushed his own back and was gradually taking control.

Suddenly he pushed her away. She hit the blackboard with a snap and slowly crumpled to the floor. A small cut appeared on the side of her neck. Drops of crimson blood traveled slowly down her throat. 

Draco held his face in his hands. "What have I done? What did I--…no…" He muttered, breathing hard. He moved quickly to Quiana's side. She was turned to the side, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile still on her face. "You're bleeding…" he breathed, taking out his wand. "Quiana, I'm sorry, I don't know…"

Her hand flew up and caught his wrist. A tear formed at the corner of her eye. But it was blinked so quickly out of view that Draco had second thoughts on whether it truly had appeared. "Don't," she commanded. "Everytime you look at me, from now on, I want you to remember who gave me this scar," she said, taking out her own wand. Healing it, a light pink line appeared. Facing him, she laughed, "I guess I'm not as invulnerable as you thought."

~ * ~ *

__

(The Quidditch Field, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor practice session)

The wind whistled through Harry's hair as he scanned the area for the whizzing, fluttering Snitch. Draco hovered nearby, watching his every move. 

__

He doesn't look too good, Harry noted. 

Gryffindor and Slytherin had been trained well in the past months, and were almost equal in skill. Draco and Harry had both been offered captaincy of their respective teams but both had turned it down for different reasons. Harry, because he could not see himself motivating the team and yelling like Wood, and Draco because he knew that he could control the team without being captain and taking on the responsibility of the game. Besides, this way, if Slytherin lost, Lucius would not be able to blame Draco completely. 

Draco tightened his grip on the broomstick; it seemed a little slippery today. The air looked hazy around him and he felt feverish. _I must be sick_, he reasoned. _But if I call the match off, they'll think that I'm too afraid to play with I'm-So-Famous-Potter. Get a hold of yourself, Draco, it's just the flu…_Inside, Draco knew it was much more than a simple flu. His head ached and his organs felt like they had been placed in a giant blender.

The door in his head kept trying to force itself open again. Draco's mental strength was spent trying to keep it shut. _I don't want it open, damn it, I want it shut and out of my life! _He screamed inwardly. _Damn curse. Why did it have to be me? Why not Potter? _Alerted by his Quidditch reflexes, he looked up, and all of the sudden a Bludger was flying straight for him. He swerved out of the way, nearly missing it, but his broom turned in the air. He was upside down for a moment, and as if he was someone else from far away, he watched himself lose his grip on the broomstick and fall in slow motion to the ground with a sickening thud. Still observing himself neutrally, he calmly noted that his right ankle was positively smashed, and his robes were torn and bloodied. He looked into the observation stands. Quiana was there, as well as Her--Granger. But while Hermione stared down at the field, Quiana was looking up, straight at Draco's second form. 

With a sudden gust, he reentered his body. The pain surfaced; his ankle felt splintered and the gash on his arm burned. He felt a warm touch on his hand. "Are you all right?" _Quiana? What's she doing…? _Draco managed to nod and propped himself up on his arms. "Don't move, someone went to go get Madam Pomfrey. Is the pain manageable?" 

__

Christ, Quiana, you stupid git, what did you think? A fall from nearly 200 feet wouldn't hurt? She said to herself. It was really odd how she ended up at his side. At first, in the stands, her gaze had been drawn to the sky, right after Draco released his hand from the broom. She couldn't see anything, but her eyes had been held there by a far greater energy. 

"Father's done worse," he said quietly, wincing. "I'll survive. It's just a scratch--"

"Draco, are you okay?" Hermione dashed to his other side. She caught sight of Quiana. "Oh, um…Hello."

Quiana smiled. Now was definitely not the time to get into a fight. She had wanted to smooth things over with Hermione anyway. "Hey there."

Hermione herself was a bit shocked. Quiana didn't make any sort of attempt to bite her head off. In fact, she was actually being…friendly…somewhat, at least. _You can always be hopeful_, Hermione chided herself. 

Quiana looked around the field. So far, there was still no sign of Madam Pomfrey. She turned to Hermione. "We should probably get him to the hospital wing before infection sets in…"

Pansy Parkinson shoved her way through the gaggle of Gryffindors and Slytherins that had amassed. "Get off him, you tramps!" she cried shrilly. "Draco, that was such a big fall! You are so brave."

Draco sighed. "Pansy, I think you're making my ankle hurt more. Get off me, now." Flicking his wand at his mangled ankle, he said, "Reparium Fractura." The bone mended somewhat, but it was too broken to heal completely. 

"I see, Mr. Malfoy, that you have decided to make my job a bit easier. Come along, I'll have you fully healed by this time tomorrow." Madam Pomfrey watched in amusement.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey, really." Draco tried to stand firmly, but his ankle shot waves of pain up his leg.

"Perhaps you did not hear me, Mr. Malfoy. Come with me, now." She snapped, seizing the back of his robes and muttering something about 'dangerous sports' and 'self-healing know it all's'. 

"This isn't fair," Draco protested helplessly, as Madam Pomfrey dragged him away. Hermione and Quiana simply looked on, stifling giggles. The sight of the tall, 'manly' Draco Malfoy being led away by the collar by a short, determined witch was just too much. 

"Very little in life is, Mr. Malfoy. Now come along and stop acting like a First Year or I'll be forced to stun you."

Harry, too, watched as Malfoy was dragged away by the collar. Only he didn't find it as funny. He spied two girls against the backdrop of the Quidditch arena. _Quiana and Hermione? That's definitely odd…But I guess I can't say that things have been normal lately…_

~ * ~ *

__

(The Hospital Wing)

Lying in a cold bed, Draco's eyes wandered aimlessly. They stared at the wall, the ceiling, and the other empty beds…His mind was in a whirl. He still wasn't totally sure of what happened. Moreover, he just told Quiana that his father hit him. _Not like she didn't know anyway,_ he thought. _I wonder what she thinks of me now, besides arrogant, unfeeling, and harsh? _"You do the most idiotic things sometimes, Draco Malfoy." He said aloud.

"We all do." Draco turned, and as his eyes fell upon the speaker, the door in his mind came crashing down.

"Potter!" he choked. "What do you want?" 

"That isn't the question, Malfoy. What do you want?" Harry's face twisted as if he was fighting an internal battle.

"What do you mean?" Draco's eyes regained their icy appearance. He calmed and took control of his mind.

"What do you want with Quiana?" Draco's face paled even whiter.

"You're mad, Potter, absolutely mad." He spat angrily. However, his barbs did not deter Harry. He was determined to get his answer.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm not stupid…" Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "I've seen you two when you pass by each other, the little looks, the way you are so terribly uncomfortable with each other. I'm here for her sake."

Harry sat down in the chair next to Malfoy's cot. "What interest do you have in her? She's not a PureBlood, she's not blonde, she hasn't got point Malfoy features, and she isn't exactly the popular socialite, as I'm sure you've noticed. Doesn't your father have requirements or anything?"

Draco's mouth curled in a semi-smirk. "And why the sudden interest in Quiana for you, Potter? Still feeling a little yearning for Cho?"

Harry reddened, but didn't respond. "I'm just going to sit here until you tell me, Malfoy."

"What, you're going to manage without your little fan club--oh, I spoke too soon, here comes one now." Draco smiled maliciously as Ron walked in.

"Harry, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ron asked urgently. "Are you all right, what of the match?"

"It's off, Malfoy isn't exactly at the top of his game." Harry responded, without looking away from Draco.

"A piece of advice, Potter: sarcasm doesn't suit you." Draco settled back onto his pillow. "Where's Pomfrey when you need her? Must you cluster around my bed?"

Ron glared at him. "I'm here for Harry, Malfoy. Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, you've seen him, haven't you? Now take Scarface and leave me alone." Draco seemed impatient.

"Ron, you can leave. Malfoy and I need to have a little chat."

Ron looked aghast. Harry glanced at him quickly, and he stalked off without a word. 

Harry turned back to Draco. "Okay, Malfoy, this started off wrong…let's put it this way. I want to know what your deal with Quiana is." He misinterpreted the look on Draco's face for impatience and continued quickly. "But you don't have to tell me. When I came in, you were saying something about idiotic things…" Harry's internal conflict seemed to have been solved. Draco bit his lip. _Maybe I can just tell Potter and put a Memory charm on him, then he'll never know…it would certainly make me feel better._

"…I was actually thinking that I was stupid for being attracted to her. Don't you ever read your history assignments? We're supposed to be destined for each other, but I found myself falling for her anyway."

"Oh." Harry tried hard to keep a straight face, but his worry shone through.

"To make it short, Potter, I like her…I like her so much that it fills every corner of my mind. Unfortunately, she doesn't like me back. She thinks I'm cruel, harsh, and arrogant. And that's basically it…the truth."

"Why should I believe you, Malfoy? How do I know you're not using her?" 

Draco sighed impatiently. "Even if I could was using her, do you really think I would tell you? And anyway, do you honestly believe that anyone could have more control over her than she has over herself?"

Harry considered this for a second and then nodded, still dubious. "What about your parents and Voldemort? I'm sure they would adore you even more for dropping the Holder of the Blade in their laps."

Draco looked around nervously. "Potter, watch the name dropping." At the Manor, it was completely forbidden to even think the Dark Lord's name. "As I said before, I would highly doubt that I would be able to subdue her and hand her over to my father and the rest of his Death Eaters. But I guess it's good for me that I'm here and not at the Manor. I'm sure that they would just love to kill me…no, worse…throw me to the dementors."

Harry looked shocked. "Your parents would actually…do that?"

__

You can drop the act, Draco; he's never going to remember it…"My father would."

Draco laughed. "No loss to you though, huh, Potter? You hate me, don't you?"

Harry faltered. "No, Malfoy. I just, well, I just dislike you. I really dislike you." 

Draco seemed satisfied with his answer. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for this, Potter, but…" he said as Harry looked bewildered. He drew out his wand. "Obliviate!" To Draco's horror, Harry flung himself to the floor. _Damn those Quidditch reflexes!_ He thought angrily.

"Is that the only reason why you said those things, Malfoy? Because you were going to wipe my memory?" Harry seemed hurt. 

"Correct, Potter. Did you truly think that I can trust you at all, Scarface?" Draco snarled as he sprung off the cot. 

"Expelliarmus!" Draco's wand suddenly flew out of his fingers and he let out a hiss of rage. Harry stood there, with both wands in his right hand. "Let's not have a repeat of that day on the train, okay?"

Draco tackled him and pushed him to the floor. Harry gasped for air as Draco crushed his chest. Draco tried to pull the wands out of Harry's fingers but Harry was too quick. He drew up his right hand and punched Draco in the face as hard as he could. The two wands left thin red marks in his cheek. Draco tightened his grip on Harry's wrist and drove his knee into Harry's side.

"Malfoy, get off of me! You're cutting off my air!"

"Dammit, give me back--"

Draco stopped suddenly and stood up stiffly. Harry followed suit, puzzled. "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall."

__

Oh, shit…Harry thought and glanced at Draco. Their eyes met in a moment of mutual sympathy and then broke instantly. Professor McGonagall's face had two angry patches of red on her cheeks and her eyes glinted bloody murder. 

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." Her voice was very strained, extremely formal. She swallowed, and closed her eyes. Upon opening them, she let loose her rage. "Just WHERE do you THINK you ARE?" she demanded. "THIS is a HOSPITAL WING! YOU ARE SEVENTH YEARS, WHAT KINDA OF EXAMPLE TO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE SETTING, BRAWLING LIKE MUGGLE DRUNKARDS!" she regained slight control over herself, and the ceiling stopped convulsing. "Detention, both of you. Transfiguration room, after classes tomorrow." Turning on her heel, she stalked out, visibly shaking. 

"We're in for it now," Harry whispered.

"Bloody hell," Draco hissed, snatching his wand back. "This is all your fault, Potter, if you had just given me my f---ing wand back decently…"

Harry bristled. "Put a lid on it, Draco, it's your fault as well as mine. You should never have said those things if you really didn't want me to know. I didn't force you to tell me."

Draco laughed ruefully. "Easy for you to say, isn't it, Potter? You have all those sappy friends who want to listen to you. I don't."

~ * ~ *

__

(Transfiguration room, the following day)

Professor McGonagall walked into the room with an expressionless face. With a sinking heart, Harry saw Professor Dumbledore enter behind her. His eyes were confused behind the half-crescent spectacles. Professor McGonagall folded her hands and pursed her lips.

Professor Dumbledore was the first to speak. "Harry, Draco, Professor McGonagall has been telling me some very disturbing news." Harry jolted with surprise when Dumbledore called Malfoy by his first name and not his title.

"Fighting, Albus. They would have killed each other if Malfoy had not seen me." Professor McGonagall explained.

Professor Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Draco. "May I inquire as to why you two were fighting?"

Harry and Draco both looked at their feet. 

"I see. It is your choice to keep this to yourselves. I would just like to know if you intend to do this again?"

Harry cleared his throat. "No, Professor. We're sorry." Draco shot Harry a look that clearly said, _Speak for yourself._

"Our problem has been…um…cleared up," Draco said, his eyes glinting.

"That is all very good. The door to my office is always open. As Seventh Years, I expected you to behave a little more responsibly." Professor Dumbledore looked at both of them with his piercing gaze. "We don't usually give detention to Seventh Years, but I am afraid in this case we will make an exception. I leave this to you, Minerva." He sighed. "Please don't make me have to talk with you about this again." He swished out of the room as Professor McGonagall began to speak.

"You are to clean the Quidditch hoops…without magic besides your brooms."

Draco groaned wholeheartedly. _This is just not my day._

~ * ~ *

__

(The Quidditch field)

Harry balanced a pail of water precariously on his Firebolt Extra. He started to scrub the grimy hoop half-heartedly. It was still quite warm, even though the sun was starting its descent. He was sweating profusely as he looked around for Draco. He couldn't find him.

"The bastard's gone!" he commented to himself. 

"Guess again, Potter!" Harry looked up just in time to see a bucketful of dirty brown water cascade down on him. Draco grinned gleefully. "I'll get you for that, Malfoy!" he had meant to say that in a more threatening tone, but it sounded only like a good-natured retort.

"I'll believe it when I see it, Potter!" Draco shouted, whizzing past on his own Firebolt Extra.

Harry held the pail in his hands and started to chase Draco. He sloshed the water at him, but only managed to get his back. "Ha, got you there, Malfoy!" 

Draco simply laughed, dove down, and picked up another bucket of water. Harry retreated as Draco ascended. "Scared, Potter?" he asked as Harry edged backwards.

"Not on your life, Malfoy!" Harry suddenly zoomed forward and grabbed the front end of Draco's broom. In a split second, he pushed it upwards slightly. The bucket Draco was holding fell on him, drenching his hair and face.

"No fair, that water's freezing!" he said, shivering.

"That's what you planned to do to me!" Harry yelled back. Draco picked up another pail that was half full and launched it at Harry with all his might. Harry saw it and avoided it easily. "Oh, shit…" he said when he realized where it was headed.

The doomed bucket was heading straight for the windows of the team dressing rooms.

Draco and Harry both concentrated on the pail and flew as fast as they could to get to it before it cost them another afternoon.

"McGonagall is going to kill us," Harry muttered as he pushed the Firebolt Extra to its highest extent. "It's going too fast!" he yelled to Draco, who was behind him. 

Harry outstretched his hand…_it's only a few inches away…if only it could go slower…_ Both of them knew that Harry wouldn't make it.

"Impedimenta!" Draco shouted. The pail slowed down and Harry plucked it out of the air easily. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the frozen worried look on Harry's face and burst out laughing. A second later, Harry, who was still holding onto the pail for dear life, started to laugh as well. 

"Thanks, M--" Harry reconsidered. "Thanks…Draco. That wasn't so bad."

Draco stopped laughing immediately. His face looked confused. _He's never been that friendly before…_"You weren't so bad yourself…Harry." he said, stiffly. The name sounded different when he spoke it. Looking at the expressions on each other's faces, they burst into helpless laughter.

~ * ~ *

__

(The day of the Ball, after all classes)

It was the night of the Yule Ball; Draco's time had run out--he had not asked Quiana as his date. Lately, she had been avoiding him, and every time he attempted to talk to her, she never said a word back. Except for that one time he fell off his broom during the practice session. But that was just different. The scar on her neck was still there, but less visible. It was fading quickly, but an invisible wall between them was still there. _It's my entire fault_, he thought helplessly.

For Harry, the situation with Hermione was growing considerably worse. Lately, she had been probably everything but herself. All she did after classes was hole up in her room and cry, study, mope, or stare out the window, according to Lavender. It was safe to say that Hermione was extremely depressed. He had to think fast. _Is there anything that could make her feel better? It's the day of the Ball and she still doesn't have a date…maybe I could get Malfoy…_ Harry stopped his train of thought and instinctively frowned. There was no way in hell that he was going to beg Malfoy to take one of his best friends to the Ball. Harry slapped his forehead and let his hand slide down his face. _Maybe--No way. No way in hell…_

~ * ~ *

On the girls' side of the Gryffindor Tower, Quiana was on her way to wash up for the Ball when her sensitive hearing picked up the familiar sound of sniffling. Quiana was in a particularly saintly mood at that point, considering no one had asked her to the Ball. She was free to look as good as she wanted to. If someone boiled away her cold exterior, all they would find would be another huge chunk of ice that was so desensitized to feeling that she just didn't care about anything anymore, as long as it was fun.

Her original destination was the bathroom, but she was distracted by a sniffly sound coming from…_Oh God, is that Hermione's room? Oh, shit…_Quiana quickly diverted her route to the source of the sniffling.

There was a strong, consistent knocking at Hermione's door. Lifting her head from her tear-soaked books (which were her only comfort these past few days) she paused her sobbing for a moment to holler back, "Forget it, Lavender, I don't want to go, there's no reason! Just leave me the f--- alone!"

Quiana pressed her ear to the door. "Hermione? It's me…Quiana…Listen, I wanted to talk to you, could you please let me in?"

Hermione stopped crying. _What in the bloody hell was she, of all people, doing here at my door? _Hermione got up and opened the door to let Quiana in without letting her seeing her (Hermione's) face. The door closed quietly behind her.

"What do you want? And make it quick, I have studying to do." Hermione instantly attacked.

Quiana was caught off guard, but managed a response. "What do you mean? I heard someone crying and I realized that it was coming from your room."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You know exactly what I mean."

Quiana was quick--things fell together in her mind as fast as she heard them. "You mean my 'relationship' with Draco."

Hermione nodded. A fresh batch of tears threatened to run down her face.

Quiana smiled a friendly smile. Hermione was utterly surprised. This was the second time. She didn't know someone with Quiana's personality could smile like that again.

"Listen, Hermione, he didn't ask me to the Ball. I'm going alone this year, I guess," she smiled again, this time a little sheepishly. 

Hermione could barely believe her ears. _Draco didn't ask her? But that was…_ "It's impossible," she insisted. "Impossible…"

Quiana twisted a strand of her hair. "Actually, it isn't. To tell you the truth, it doesn't really matter if any guy invites me as their date. I prefer it if nobody asked me at all. It gives you such freedom from all those petty 'fights' over guys." She laughed. "Honestly, Hermione, we should enjoy this time together, as a group. It might be our last chance…And I definitely wanted to make amends with you…"

Hermione looked stunned. The tears threatening to leak had long since dried. "The Second Mage War?"

Quiana nodded sadly; a cloud was cast over her light eyes. "I try not to think about it, but everyday is one step closer, the clock advances one tick faster. It's a curse, being me. No matter…we're going to have fun tonight, aren't we?" 

Hermione laughed. "Yeah…" then with more confidence: "We are." _Wow, who knew that Quiana could be this…friendly? I can't believe you were so blind before; you created tension for no reason! Well, except that you were jealous and miserable over Draco…whom you knew didn't love you anyhow…_

Suddenly, Hermione looked down. Her face reddened, and her voice was laced with embarrassment. "Listen, Quiana, I'm sorry about the way I acted before. I just realized that I was so stupidly jealous because…because I didn't want to face reality."

Quiana placed a comforting hand on Hermione's wrist. "I know how you feel. I'm sorry too, for the stupid way I acted. I should have realized that before, and yet I acted so…callous. Friends?"

"Friends." Hermione reached out and hugged her. _It's nice having one less enemy, _she thought genuinely.

Both girls were giddy from excitement. Quiana grabbed Hermione by the hand. "You would look great in this dress I brought…"

"And I have this necklace that would look great on you…" Hermione added, as Quiana pulled her out of her room.

~ * ~ *

(_Slytherin 7th year boys' Dorm)_

Draco banged his head repeatedly against one of the walls of his room. _How could you have been so stupid? You probably passed up every chance you had to ask her to the Ball, and now look at you! _

"Hey, I know it must be real interesting to kill all your brain cells right before the NEWT reviews but as your friend, I advise you to get going." Darrel MacNamara, Draco's roommate, poked his head in the door. His dark hair was already slicked back, complete with a handsome set of black robes. He was the epitome of a Slytherin Seventh Year. "The ball starts in about an hour." Darrel, noticing that Draco did not respond, retreated from the door and back into the hall to meet up with more of his Slytherin friends. 

"Thanks, Darrel," Draco muttered to the wall. He had one chance to redeem himself, so he gave up the wall for the bathroom. At least there he could make himself look semi-decent for the Ball. 

~ * ~ *

"There, you look 'astonishingly beautiful'." Quiana beamed with a playfully exaggerated remark. She had just finished completing Hermione's look for the ball. "I'm sure all of the guys will want to dance with you."

Hermione twirled in front of Quiana's full-length mirror. She looked like one of those pretty models from some teenage, Muggle girl magazine. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant French twist, complete with a silver, pearl embedded clip. A few stray curls framed her girlish face yet gave her a sophisticated appearance. Hermione was so excited she pounced on Quiana and circled her in a hug.

Surprised but definitely not offended, Quiana had never felt this close to anyone but her grandmother and Celeste in her life. She returned the hug and gave Hermione a little shove toward the hallway. Making a 'shoo' motion with her hand, she said, "Go get your dress on. I can take care of myself." 

Hermione was in another world, she was so excited. Dressing up was always a thrill for her. And Quiana had totally surprised her--they were quickly becoming the best of friends and just moments before, Hermione had been ready to commit suicide because of her. She flashed Quiana a wide grin then raced to her room to put on her own dress. 

~ * ~ *

(_A half-hour later)_

This time, it was Hermione's turn to come knocking on Quiana's door. 

"Quiana, are you done yet?" she said with feigned impatience.

The door slid open. Quiana looked like some sort of goddess out of the pages of one of Hermione's textbooks.

"You look wonderful!" Hermione laughed, smiling broadly.

"You think so?" said Quiana, a bit unsure. 

__

That's twice again. I never thought she could be unsure about anything… Hermione thought.

"I couldn't decide between the blue or the black, so I just picked the black because I guess black is easier to look decent in." Quiana smoothed the folds of her dress robes, an elegant black number with a few crystals studding the collar.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, you know every guy would swoon over you just the same if you showed up in bright orange."

"These heels are so hard to walk in. I don't know how Daniella or Lavender manage them everyday." Whined Quiana, who usually wore broken-in boots to class.

Hermione nodded to Quiana's hair. "So how long did it take you to construct that? I know it would have taken me at least a day." She giggled.

Quiana shrugged. "It just depends on how well my hair is behaving," she patted her head, making a few curls bounce. After one final glance in the mirror, Quiana flicked her wand, turning off the light in her room. Angelica was long gone. She seemed to have left with the rest of the female socialites of the Gryffindor tower.

"Enough mirror staring. The guys have to get some fun too." They both laughed and locked arms. "Come on…we'll be late."

~ * ~ *

__

(Forbidden Forest, the same night)

"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…" The voice of the Dark Lord was faintly mocking. "You are most impatient."

"I am sorry, my Lord, I thought it would be best if I were to consult you before carrying out the 'plan'." He bowed low, remembering the punishment for pride. 

"My Lord, I was to ask what would happen to my family name, my position, after the war--"

"It is nothing! Nothing compared to my Plan, Lucius. A Wizard War is brewing and we must not make an enemy of your little traitor, although I am quite sure that has already been done." Voldemort's eyes gleamed. "A War of Mages is unlike any other."

"But--"

"But nothing, Lucius. Your family name was soiled beyond repair when you married your Narcissa, for she was not yours from the start. Didn't you know? She belonged to a MudBlood before. What your weakling heir has done is no worse."

Lucius Malfoy shuddered slightly. _Could it be that Narcissa had a second child? A child of a MudBlood?_ _Shame enough to have married a used woman, but with a MudBlood? _

"Besides, your son has powers which you cannot imagine. It would not be prudent to alienate him. Already the Muggle-loving fools, Dumbledore and the Boy…Harry Potter." He spat out the name like a bitter taste. "They have amassed an army, unequalled, apart from my own."

"Why is an army required, my Lord, pardon my incomprehension."

Voldemort looked at Lucius Malfoy with utter distaste. "Have you not been schooled properly? Are you that ignorant? Surely you are aware of the fundamental rules of Wizarding. The first one, at least."

"Yes, master. Magic per unit area."

"And you must also know that because of the increase in the Wizarding population, more residual magic is free in the world. Mage Wars, spell wars, were possible, but are no more so. An excess of magic in the battle area will cause an overload, especially since powerful magic is needed for the Time Freeze in my Plan. Our spells will either become useless or absorb too much power to master. This is because magic attracts other magic." The Dark Lord spoke slowly, as if to a moron.

"Forgive me, master, I see it now."

"Of course you do." Voldemort smiled evilly. "Back to the matter of your Gryffindor sympathizing brat, do nothing more. You have done enough already, pushing him away and leaving him open to be taken by the other side. I will send my loyal emissary to deliver him a message." He stopped suddenly and laughed. "Time, Lucius, is on our side."

~ * ~ *

__

(The Great Hall, the Yule Ball is taking place)

Harry and Ron, bored with each other and their dates, sat at a table not so far away from the musicians and the door to the courtyard. Upon entering the Hall, everyone began to socialize with his or her friends from other Houses. Ron's date, Lavender, had long since left their table to catch up on the latest gossip. Harry decided to remain dateless; that or he didn't feel like going through all the trouble of asking someone. There had been too much on his mind lately.

Harry sipped his glass of firewater. The hint of cinnamon had suddenly appealed to him. "Ron, have you seen Hermione? She never took this long to get here before."

Ron was snapped out of his dozing period. "Hmm? Oh, Hermione…Lavender said something about her not wanting to come…"

Harry sighed. "Maybe we should go get her…" there was no answer. Everyone continued to talk, but Ron was suddenly awakened and staring forward.

"Ron? What's the matter with--" Harry realized what Ron was staring at. Hermione and Quiana stood in front of them, peering curiously.

Harry smiled. "I'm guessing you two are playing nice?" He tried to hide his surprise, but he was never any good at that.

"Playing?" Quiana said with feigned exaggeration.

"I'm sure he means behaving," Hermione noted, as if in deep thought. The girls exchanged looks, and they both burst out laughing. Their caricature of their 'before' personalities was laughable…now.

Draco wandered up and down the Hall searching for his lost 'date'. _There's only one voice, one face like hers…_he was extremely desperate, for he disturbed nearly every table. It was nice of the musicians to resist playing ballads. _Who knows what I would do then, mow over everyone just to get to Quiana? Now that would be a sight_, he mused to himself. _I wonder if P--Harry…knows where she is._ He stopped in mid-thought. His eyes traced the room to a discreet table among all the rest, with only four inhabitants. _That's it, all I have to do is walk over and…_

"Draco…" A sickly, syrupy voice with an equally sickening looking hand latched onto Draco's black sleeve.

__

Pansy, he thought darkly.

He spun around, impatient. "What do you want now, you ever-annoying creature?"

Pansy's smile was lost in her folds of fat. She was exhilarated, having caught Draco's attention for more than a second. "I asked the musicians to play a ballad following this waltz," she informed him with an air of importance. "I was--"

Draco cut her off in less time than she took to say 'I was'. "No."

And with that, he left the gawking Pansy for his intended table.

Quiana was having a wonderful time. She enjoyed chatting with Harry and Ron--they were remarkably comical and witty. But she enjoyed the most getting to know Hermione. She was probably the only one who understood beyond shallow gossip and parties. After all the laughing had died down, Ron came up with a plan to pry a little more information out of Quiana. 

"So we're friends, right?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Correct, dear sir. I would curtsy, but that's too much effort for me." Said Quiana, pulling at her dress robes.

Hermione stifled a giggle. "Rhetoric questions… But do tell us something about you, Quiana. The most we know is that Cho is your half-sister." She flashed a glance at Harry, then went back to Quiana.

"Well…if you must know…" Quiana sighed. _Hermione's right…again. They're your friends now, you can trust them, right? _"I lived in China for 9 years of my life, until this owl showed up and it turned out that my grandmother on my father's side realized I existed."

"You lived in China?" Hermione was enthralled. "It must have been so interesting to live in such an 'exotic' place."

Ron laughed. "Oh, Herm, anything outside of London is 'exotic' to you."

Quiana smiled. "It gets boring after a while. I found out more stuff about my grandmother…she was a former Auror, and my father actually was on a story about the Death Angels in China when he met my mother. Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony."

Hermione's mind was confused. "Irony?"

__

Harry's the only one that knows what I'm talking about; Quiana thought nervously, as Harry stared right through her. _Should he remain the only one?_

Harry was about to change the subject, but he only narrowed his eyes. "Look who's here…"

Draco couldn't find the words to say. Four pairs of eyes were on him, and yet he wasn't able to force his mouth to speak. 

"You look lost, little boy," Quiana said quickly, trying to prevent any potential tension build-up. 

__

Dry humor, always a pleasure… he thought, and flashed her a winning smile. "And you look…stunning. Would you care to dance, fair lady?"

__

You have to give him credit for his charm, Quiana thought. She extended her hand but looked back at Hermione, worried that she would burn the bridge she had just created between them.

Hermione sighed mockingly, and then winked to show no hard feelings. Quiana laughed internally. _There's got to be a catch somewhere…_

Draco was nervous as he strode onto the dance floor with Quiana's hand in his. He must have been obvious, for she said, "Don't be so jumpy, I don't bite." She patted his cheek and smiled. Her touch felt like healing salves, however, his face felt red anyway. 

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

"For what?" She said obliviously, stepping in with the rhythm of the waltz. _This was grandma's favorite dance…_

"For…For hurting you, for anything I did wrong. I wanted to make it up to you, but I didn't know how…" all of his thoughts spilled out in one sentence.

"Is that so?" she replied solemnly. "Well, Draco Malfoy, I don't know how you PureBlood wizards apologize, and I surely don't know how you accept apologies. But I will accept yours, for a small price."

"Anything," he said hastily.

"A promise--that you won't, or at least endeavor, not to hurt me any more than you already have."

He leaned closer, startling her a bit. "Your wish is my command."

~ * ~ *

"Professor, I mean, Albus, will you have a look at that?" Minerva McGonagall tugged on Dumbledore's heavy blue sleeve.

"What is it Minerva, this apple pie is absolutely delectable, you must try some."

Minerva ignored the latter comment and proceeded. "Albus, look on the dance floor."

Dumbledore turned his head toward the direction in which she was pointing. He noticed that most students had cleared off to the side, leaving only two in the middle. 

"Don't you think that interesting at all?" Minerva crossed her arms.

Dumbledore replied, "Yes, it is so sweet. Just like this apple pie."

~ * ~ *

Draco and Quiana left the floor, following trickles of applause from their classmates.

"Draco Malfoy! I've been looking for you," a tall girl with black eyes and electric red hair touched his shoulder. She was not exactly pretty, but her eyes glinted in an exotic way and the very way she stood told of her inner power.

Draco paled but recovered quickly.

"Parry, it's been a long time. What brings you here?"

She smiled alluringly. "You will see soon enough, my dear."

Quiana rolled her eyes. _What was with these girls and calling him 'my dear'? I wonder if he ever gets tired of that?_

"Ah, Parry, may I introduce you to Quiana Llewellyn?" Parry's eyes narrowed and her frigid face turned hard and brittle. "Quiana, this is Countess Parthenope De Maurier of Roscirca."

"The word's out that you have changed, but you can't change blood." Parthenope snubbed, without batting an eyelid. Hardly anyone ever remembered her words, just her voice; it beckoned to them in a supernatural way.

"I have to leave, see you…later." She turned and walked away slowly, turning back to give Draco a lingering glance.

"And who might she be?" Quiana asked, attempting to look amused.

"Oh, just a family friend…" Draco replied, a trifle snappish.

Quiana glared at him. "What, you want me to make you promise not to lie to me either?"

"Fine," he relented. "She's an ex-girlfriend of mine."

"There's still something you're not telling me."

"She's not exactly the most passive person in the world. She tried to curse the girl I went out with after--" 

Quiana was spared having to hear about Draco's next make-out partner because a melodious yet melancholy voice invaded the Hall. The sound was rich and pure, laced with emotion and sadness.

Quiana glanced at the stage. "Parthenope," she said with an air of resignation.

Draco didn't look surprised, but he definitely looked agitated. He glanced around and seemed to be looking for an escape. Like a Veela's dancing, the Hall was entranced, lulled by this all-omnipresent song. But the singer seemed to be singing only for one person. _Only for Draco Malfoy_, thought Quiana. He touched her arm.

"Let's go for a walk. Her singing isn't safe."

Quiana nodded reluctantly as they walked silently and abandoned the haunting noise. Like a banshee's soft wails, it followed them out of the corridor and all the way outside. Berating, blaming and chastising them for leaving its all protecting embrace. 

Draco glanced uncertainly at Quiana's face. Her eyes were unreadable, closed. He had tried to tell her this before. He didn't want to hurt her again.

"Just refrain yourself from cutting me again, okay? I have enough scars as it is." She said, undoing her hair, then tying it back up again.

"How did you--" Draco snapped, unnerved.

"Be careful of what you say around me. We're 'connected', remember?" She said, looking up at the sky, then back at him.

"But I didn't say anything!" he protested, confused.

"I guess you wanted me to hear it then," she shrugged. The moon was in its waning stage, but its light was still bright enough to bring the gardens to life. "Isn't this just amazing? It's so serene."

Draco moved toward her and tilted her chin so she could see his eyes. "Nothing parallels you," he said as he kissed her forehead. Quiana closed her eyes. _Give in, _a voice said from her mind. _Just let go…_

~ * ~ *

Harry observed the pair in the courtyard. _And to think that I confused her for Cho when they are so incredibly…opposite._ The simple memory of Cho flashed across his mind. _Her eyes were the color of rich earth, deep and caring. But that day they were closed, as if under a spell. It was as if she wasn't completely there…_

"Excuse me, do you know where I could find Quiana Llewellyn?"

__

Quiana…? "Huh?" Harry's mind bounced back to the present. A pretty girl with short black hair and steel gray eyes that looked awfully familiar stood before him, donning simple but refined cream-colored dress robes. The pearls she wore around her neck didn't quite match, but Harry thought they looked stunning on her anyway.

"I'm looking for Quiana Llewellyn, is she here?" The girl repeated her question, but then carefully scrutinized Harry's face. "Is something wrong?" She said, with genuine concern.

"Was I that obvious?" Harry said, trying to laugh it off.

__

Great move, Harry. I'm sure M--Draco would keel over at the mere sound of your attempt at charming ladies.

The girl didn't seem fazed at all. In fact, she actually chuckled as she said, "Maybe I could spare a moment of my search. Would honor me with this dance, good sir?" She bowed, and a few strands of her hair fell from behind her ear.

Harry resisted the temptation to let his jaw drop to the newly polished floor. "…Sure." He said, enthusiastically as possible. 

"Then what are you waiting for, next year?" she threw her head back and laughed, then started walking to the dance floor, with Harry running to catch up with her.

__

Funny, you didn't even bother to ask her name, he mused to himself.

~ * ~ *

[Due to the fact that my neck is hurting, my fingers are hurting, and this thing is getting too long for its own good anyways, I decided to move the rest of it to chapter six because I figured that you people (for those of you who DO read this, but don't review!) needed to get caught up with some stuff.. and I figured it'd also be nice to have Quiana and Hermione make amends. Warning, this is just a beta version, I'll fix it later if I find that it's lacking in some plot stuff, etc. okay? (^_^) I'm so proud of myself, I did this in 2 days… laughs ] [jade]


	6. Blood, Sweat, and Tears

A/n: My gosh, have I really been that lazy? laughs it's been one full year since I first started writing this fic, and I must admit, it is a FAR cry from what I originally had in mind. But I really like how it turned out (so far; I still haven't finished writing, literally, the end) and I hope that people continue to enjoy the style of my fanatic writing. This chapter has taken me quite a while 1) because I had a nasty case of writer's block and 2) my school life tends to butt in a lot… Also, check out the mini-fic from Hermione's p.o.v. .. I finally got around to writing something new! (^_^) Happy holidays and enjoy, as always!

__

There are oceans between us

But that's not very far…["blurry", -puddle of mudd]

~ * ~ *

__

She's not the kind of girl  
who likes to tell the world  
about the way she feels about herself  
She takes a little time  
in making up her mind  
She doesn't want to fight against the tide

She knows the human heart  
and how to read the stars  
now everything's about to fall apart… 

The trick is to keep breathing… ["the trick is to keep breathing", -garbage]

~ * ~ *

__

(Yule Ball, outside in the gardens)

Quiana was lost in Draco's embrace. Natural hypnosis: his warm breath on her head. His heartbeat in her ears. She felt dizzy, slight vibrations pounding in her head.

__

The pulse of life, the sheer space of it all…if only I could stay here forever and be sheltered and taken care of and…

But at once a feeling similar to that of ice water washed over her. She shivered visibly.

"What's wrong? Are you cold?" Draco asked with concern, pulling her closer.

"No, no. It's something else…" Her gaze was drawn to the sky, but she did not scream. Her eyes widened and she grabbed his hand. "He's here," she whispered. 

A shrill, terror-laden scream emerged from the edge of the forest. 

~ * ~ *

Inside the Hall, Parthenope finished warbling her last note. The silence seemed ugly compared to her sweet, enchanting voice. Suddenly it was broken by a blood-curdling scream that seemed not too far away. For a second, time seemed to stop. People froze in their seats, and the musicians hung on to their last note. Oddly, time caught up with a shove; Dumbledore leapt to his feet, followed closely by McGonagall and Snape. The prefects stood up and tried to calm the nervous, scared crowd.

Ron walked up to Harry, biting his lip. "Harry, that sounded an awful lot like--"

"Parvati," Harry affirmed, his heart sinking. _It must have been a Death Eater_, he thought dismally. He let go of the girl's hand. "I'm sorry, but I have to go find a fellow classmate," he apologized to her.

Ron looked confused. "Who--" he noticed the girl gazing sadly at Harry. "Oh."

The sadness was gone from her eyes. She pressed her lips together. "You do what you have to," she relented.

"I'll go with you, Harry…" Ron couldn't stop looking at her eyes. They were more familiar than usual. He had seen the exact same gray; somewhere…He just couldn't remember…

Harry broke into a run out of the Hall, with Ron on his heels.

~ * ~ *

Dumbledore meandered from his balcony seat and down into the gardens. He walked for a while until he stopped at the edge of the forest, the supposed source of the scream. Obscuring the pale, waning moon was a giant, outstretched wing. Incredulously, he followed the wing to the proportionately, impossibly small and black-scaled object suspended in the sky. Its skin seemed to absorb the light around it rather than reflect it. The only refractions were the gleaming, evil red eyes.

"Black Night," he said simply.

Behind him, the color drained from both Professor McGonagall and Snape's faces. Black Night, a name whispered with almost the same amount of frightened submission as You-Know-Who's name commanded. He was the epitome of living fear. He was Voldemort's emissary, his Watcher and Guard. Imprisoned during the First Mage War, he must have been released once Voldemort regained his power. He was Voldemort's messenger, the dragon Black Night. Another shrill scream sounded from the thicket below its red stare. A frightened girl with torn robes emerged in the clearing. The dragon let loose a roar of rage and flew after her. 

Soon, Draco and Quiana appeared next to Dumbledore. All had shell-shocked looks on their faces. Dumbledore, because he realized that Voldemort was closer to home than he expected, Draco because somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that the dragon was meant for _him_, and Quiana because her time of peace had suddenly run out. Harry and Ron quickly joined them, panting.

"So, what'd we miss?" asked Ron, bending over to facilitate his breathing.

The look of surprise was gone from Draco's face. In its place was a solemnity of magical proportions. He pulled a pair of dragon-hide gloves from his robes and put them on in one fluid motion. "Harry, Ron, distract Black Night; I'll take care of it from there."

Dumbledore watched with curious attention. He was interested in seeing the Staffs at work. 

Harry nodded slowly. He realized that Draco knew what he was doing, and for some odd reason, He, the 'great' Harry Potter, was compelled to trust him. "Accio Firebolt!" Instantly, his broom was in his hand. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Hermione for teaching him those Summoning charms so long ago…Ron jumped on behind him and then they were up in the air. 

The girl had run into the forest. She was unable to be discerned from the dark trees and foliage. The teachers inched closer, attempting to get close enough to draw her out. But the dragon landed right in front of them, daring them to move. Small flames jetted from its nostrils, as if warning them about its full powers. 

Harry and Ron were busy maneuvering in the air, in an effort to distract the dragon from the girl. _It's only the Hungarian Horntail, nothing else; it's going to be easy, it's not Black Night, concentrate, damn you!_ Harry thought to himself; the thoughts were quickly becoming his mantra, as if to convince himself to quell his reasonable fear.

The dragon's eyes followed Harry's every move. It was obvious that it was tiring quickly of the annoying mortals zipping around on a moving object. Roaring, malicious flames spewed from its jaws. Harry merely swooped under it and evaded the whip-like tail as it lashed out at him. Finally, in a complete stage of annoyance, the dragon turned around, forgetting the teachers, and in a gust of hot, fire-sparked wind, blew both Harry and Ron off the broomstick.

"No…" Quiana's heart struck with pain as she watched them hit a large tree with a sickening thud. A tear collected at the edge of her eye. When she reached to wipe it away, the liquid on her fingers felt thicker than usual. She looked down at it, and it was…red. _This is…blood…**my** blood… _it took so much of her energy to keep from collapsing to her knees and breaking down into sobs. _It's too much, I can't take it_, she thought frantically, wiping the blood from her fingers. _You still have a duty to carry out; _a voice inside reminded her. _Do not be afraid, for Evangelia is with you. Take the Blade, Holder, and defend all that is good…_ She remembered that voice well. It was there when she had first received the Blade Staff, and here it was again, reminding her of her duty…_my curse_, she thought dimly. "Accio Blade!" Her fingers closed around the carved, ebony handle until the knuckles were white with tension. "Let's go," she said to Draco, who had already called his Dragon Staff. "We have evil to conquer."

~ * ~ *

__

Another scream from the forest. _That was three times already_, Quiana noted. _You'd think she'd be dead by now_. Black Night's eyes flicked toward her and Draco as they stood before it. For a mortal instant, Holder and demon stared into each other's eyes. An odd discomfort afflicted Quiana, and she closed her eyes, breaking the thread. _The eyes…they're not demonic…they're…human._

With another battle-cry, the dragon folded its great wings and seemed to shrink. However, it still towered high above them, drawing in a long breath. Draco was really on the edge of desperation, hysteria gnawing at his senses. But his image betrayed nothing of how he felt on the inside. The dragon crowning his staff was glowing, as if preparing for use. 

__

You aren't going to die, Draco. Oh no, oh no…just don't let her die, don't…

The dragon started to spew out red-white flames: at first a raging torrent, and tapering into a tiny jet. Draco stared as the flames rushed towards him. Driving the base of the Staff into the ground with one arm, he chanted, "Light of Day, never to extinguish, shine brightly in the face of anguish." A glittering, snow-white shield amassed in front of him, deflecting the flames back at the demon. 

The demon howled in pain at its own flames. It didn't expect retribution.

"I have to leave the shield, Draco," Quiana stated, without looking at Draco. "It's the only way the magic will touch Black Night."

Draco's eyes lit with their own fire. "No. I'm not letting you go out there alone."

She looked at him sadly. "I wasn't asking for your permission," she replied as she stepped out of the barrier and into the darkness. 

The dragon was still nursing its wounds when it noticed that one of the mortals had left the protective shield. Roaring with delight, it spread its wings once more and motioned to spurt out more flaming streams from its jaws. 

Closing her eyes, she recited, "Ancient Blade, hear my decree, fly straight and true to the heart of the beast, return only to me when it falls in defeat." 

The ivy on the large, double-crescent blade slowly filled with a yellow light, apparently energizing itself. Opening her eyes and exhaling, she tossed up the staff, caught it, and launched it with all her might. Like a high-powered javelin, it flew straight up in the direction of the dragon's chest.

The flames had just begun to emerge from the dragon's mouth as the Blade pierced its heart. Whimpering, it fell from the sky, dethroned. There was a heavy trembling of the earth as Black Night dropped like a stone in front of Quiana. The Blade remained stranded in its vast chest. The teachers, as well as Draco, approached carefully from behind.

The dragon gave a shudder, and its malignant, ruby eyes closed in death. Miraculously, the Blade extricated itself from the lifeless corpse of Black Night, stained with its black blood. Quiana extended her hand to receive the Staff, but as soon as her hands touched the handle, she fell to her knees. Her hands flew to her eyes and she instantly began to sob uncontrollably. She fought hard to keep from emitting the cries of pain that wracked her body. This was the reason why she hated crying: it always hurt so much when the tears of blood flowed freely from her eyes, blinding her, paining her. 

The Holder of the Blade had power, but that same power did not come without a price. For each life that it smote, the Holder would hear the soul's cries of pain and even feel the death agonies themselves. The tears of blood were real; they testified to the suffering of the soul. 

Alarmed, Draco dropped to her side. Cupping her quaking shoulders, he tried to coax her up. "What's wrong with her?!" he screamed to Dumbledore.

Quiana's usually confident and assertive voice had become tiny and distressed. "It hurts," she kept repeating, hands still covering her eyes.

"Get her to the hospital wing," said Dumbledore. "Now! Before she bleeds to death!"

"Bleeds to death?" Snape said in wonder. 

"Just get her to Pomfrey, you bleating idiot!" McGonagall raged. 

~ * ~ *

(_Hospital wing, same night)_

Draco's grip on Quiana's hand drew tighter and tighter until he felt that if he continued squeezing, he would break their delicate structure. She lay pale and sweaty in the hospital cot, levitated as quickly as possible by Madam Pomfrey, who had gone to make her 'specialty tea' with some house elves. Quiana's hair was in disarray; her eyes were closed tightly, and her mouth spouting words that didn't seem to connect.

"I killed her, I killed her…it was me…" bits of caked blood that resembled the aftermath of cuts were scattered on her face. Draco reached for his kerchief and dusted them away. _I wonder where that came from…it must have been when she picked up her Staff from Black Night's body. Dragon's blood tends to run a little black._ But somehow, he was not convinced that the blood on her face was of dragon-type. The dried color was more of a dark crimson, like human blood would be. Draco's heart ached. He didn't want to think of the chance that Quiana could be mortally wounded. He stroked her hand._ Don't leave me, you're stronger than this_, as if the mere act of holding her hand could will her to live.

"How is she?" Harry's voice reached his ears from behind. Two pairs of footsteps accompanied the voice.

Not letting go of her hand, Draco turned to see the visitors. It was Harry and Dumbledore; Harry's own arm bandaged and in a sling. Ron had been awakened, bandaged, and sent to the dormitories. He suffered only minor bruises and scratches; Madam Pomfrey insisted that he get rest.

"Fine, I suppose," Draco nodded stiffly toward Harry's sling. "How's the arm coming along?"

Harry's good arm instinctively moved to cradle the injured one. "I think it'll be all right; Pomfrey is good at this sort of thing."

Quiana had stopped her fitful turning, and was resting somewhat peacefully. Her eyes remained shut tightly, however.

Dumbledore silently moved to the opposite side of the cot. He placed one hand over her forehead, then retracted it slowly. At the same moment, Madam Pomfrey shuffled by and placed a silver tray on the bedside table. Pouring a violet-colored tea into the porcelain cup, she handed it to Dumbledore. "This should help her restlessness," she said, glancing concernedly at the girl in the cot. Dumbledore graciously took the cup and was about to administer the liquid when Quiana suddenly sat up, her eyes wide open.

"Parvati! I killed her!" As quickly as she had awakened, she fell back, unconscious.

~ * ~ *

Madam Pomfrey blanched considerably. She nearly fainted, had Dumbledore not steadied her.

"Wait, what does she mean she 'killed' Parvati? Parvati was in the forest; Quiana slew the dragon, end of story. I know Quiana's not a murderer. Don't tell me she just became one." Draco said adamantly, eyeing Dumbledore to elicit his response.

Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles and sighed. "There's something different about Black Night, for he was no ordinary dragon. You see, once Dementors suck out mortal souls, the souls are completely altered. The Dementors have no use for them, so they deposit them in a living host. Black Night, I believe, was a host."

"Parvati's host…" Harry whispered. Everything fell together. A Death Eater must have set a Dementor on Parvati, which caused her soul to be transferred to Black Night…and when Quiana killed Black Night, she also destroyed Parvati's soul. "Professor Dumbledore? What happens when the soul is destroyed?" 

Dumbledore gestured to the cot. "It often depends on how the soul was destroyed. Parvati must have experienced great pain when the Blade Staff cut through Black Night. Quiana experiences a similar effect, only she does not die. The effects of the soul are not permanent; once the souls tire of haunting they embark on their search for eternal rest. Meanwhile, this tea is more than a sleeping aid. It is meant to rid Quiana of the parasitic soul."

After getting the tea down her throat, Dumbledore set the cup on the tray. "Madam Pomfrey will make sure to care for Quiana until she has returned to full health. It is late, and while this turn of events has undoubtedly altered the course of the school year, you will continue to have classes tomorrow. Good night, gentlemen." There was a swishing of robes, and Dumbledore was gone.

"Dumbledore's right, Draco. We should leave. Madam Pomfrey will take care of her…" Harry said, with a tone of concern.

"I'm not leaving," Draco said, ignoring Harry.

"I agree." There was intelligence behind the voice, not power. Harry looked over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of the girl he was dancing with prior to the Black Night incident. He was notably surprised. 

"What are you doing here?" He blurted, without thinking.

"Visiting an old friend," the girl said simply. Her face was pretty in a pointed sort of way, and a fervent intelligence burned in her gray eyes. Her short, shiny black hair gave her an age-beyond-her-years look.

"Who are you?" Draco asked roughly. "What do you want with Quiana?"

The girl's voice was cold. "Silly boy, you don't even recognize your own relatives. And if it pleases you, I went to school with Quiana a long time ago; she was my best friend. But I am here for other reasons, those of which were demonstrated tonight."

"You're here for the war," Harry interpreted.

"I'm not here to instigate it, if that's what you were thinking. I'm here to help Dumbledore and the rest of those fighting along with him against Voldemort and his emissaries. Black Night was only one of the many who loyally served the Dark Lord. There will be floods of his other followers once the war begins."

Draco looked confused. "I don't remember ever seeing you before. If you were truly a Malfoy, you would have gone to at least one reunion."

"Obviously, I'm not a Malfoy." The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"Then you're not my relative," Draco responded instinctively. It was an answer his father had taught him over and over: if the person does not carry the Malfoy name, then they are not relatives. It was one of the simpler concepts learned within the walls of Malfoy Manor.

"Oh, but I am. It pains me, Draco, really, that Mum never told you about me; yet all along I knew about you."

"Mum?"

"Yes, Mum. Narcissa Malfoy, Mistress of Malfoy Manor, is my biological mother." She explained, exasperated. It was evident she disliked using her mother's full title.

"How is that…" Draco trailed off, thinking.

"Possible? It's fairly simple: I have a different father, but the same mother as you. I'm your half-sister, Celeste LaSeule of Alastriona Conservatory for Witches."

~ * ~ *

__

(Malfoy Manor, the living room)

Narcissa and Lucius sat by the roaring fire. It had been charmed to glow green instead of the normal, reddish-orange color. Narcissa glared into it, a premonitory fear running through her. She knew what was to come. _A curse, being born a Seer. Especially when all there is to See is hatred, turmoil, and death._ She thought darkly.

The fireplace flickered and a hooded head appeared within the flames, giving it a hellish look. Lucius jumped to his feet, but Narcissa remained seated. 

"My Lord," he said, bowing low. 

Voldemort laughed. "Why bow to a mere reflection, Lucius?" he noticed Narcissa in her chair. "Narcissa, how are you?"

"Well enough, as always." Her voice was frosty and edged with insolence.

Lucius reddened. "Narcissa! I forbid--"

"Leave her be." Voldemort's face was solemn. "Your son is developing his talents quickly; I am sure you know what this means for the Plan."

Narcissa smiled. _Draco was always a quick learner._ It felt odd; she was unused to the pull of her facial muscles. She relaxed them hurriedly.

"Narcissa, of course, the Great Seer, knows what I am talking about." Voldemort cackled for a moment, then commanded, "I require you by my side, Lucius. Now." The face in the fire flickered for a second, and then was totally consumed by the verdant flames. Lucius straightened his robes quickly and lifted his wand. Suddenly, he seemed to change his mind.

"Narcissa, he said you knew of Draco's 'talents'."

"I am a Seer, Lucius." She said plainly. 

"Ah. Well, you needn't wait for me tonight." Lucius Disapparated, leaving her alone. Narcissa sighed and stoked the fire disconsolately. She had too much time on her hands lately; Lucius had been away at his 'meetings' with increasing frequency. _More time for reminiscing…regret…a whole lifetime of regret…_the fire flickered again.

"Narcissa." 

"Voldemort."

"It always amazes me, Narcissa. You amaze me. I offered you a chance by my side."

"You asked after you took, Voldemort. It doesn't work that way; not with me. I had nothing to lose." The shadows played on her face, and her eyes gleamed even more gray.

The Dark Lord's voice was cruel, filled with sadistic glee. "You have much to lose now, your son…your husband…"

"The husband you chose, Voldemort. The heir you wished me to bear."

"The first one…Narcissa, was the first one mine? Was it my child?" There was a curious note of pleading in Voldemort's voice. 

"Do you honestly think so?" Narcissa replied, with harsh amusement.

"Damn you, Narcissa!" Voldemort roared, reverting to his Muggle upbringing for a brief moment. "Magic undone, what I can do has no rival to your cruelty."

"You flatter me so, Voldemort."

"And you… torture me."

"You, more than anyone, deserve it the most."

"One day, Narcissa. I will kill you and everything you love."

"I never doubted it." 

The face flickered, and with one last snarl, was gone. The hardness on Narcissa's face suddenly melted away, and her eyes became soft and sad. Tears of liquid crystal glittered green in the firelight. Tears weighted not only by sadness; but also by hatred, rage, regret, and frustration. _Life_, she thought bitterly, _is the ultimate torture._

~ * ~ *

Narcissa hadn't started out with a bad life. She had been born to a wealthy PureBlood and Veela. Charm and grace came as naturally as breathing to her, as did rashness and cruelty. She hadn't attended Hogwarts, but had private tutoring by strictly lady teachers. Her Veela charm was too much for people. Her father allowed her to attend one dance; not just any dance, but the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There she met two young men unlike any other. One with charcoal black hair, one with the blondest iridescence. One as cold as the other warm--Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy. 

She had never been attracted to Lucius. He was merely a year older than she, whereas Sirius was at least five. He was teacher's aide. She could still remember her first dance with him. His softest touch, his breath on her cheek, and his voice whispering in her ear. It had been easy. He was completely in love with her.

__

And I? _I was completely in love with him too._ Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut. She had met a completely different man also. A wizard yet emerging into power--the Dark Lord himself, Voldemort. She had feared him more terribly than the rest, for she could see his strength. She could see the hatred within him. She could remember the fateful day as if it were still happening to her. 

Flashback 

The air was unnaturally crisp and tense. Sirius had just proposed to her. The cold metal of the engagement ring still chilled her finger. She sat in her room, gazing in wonder at the golden ring with a glowing stone in the center. Inscriptions of love lined the inside; it was a true profession of his love for her. The moon was full, and all seemed quiet. The Dark Lord came for her that night.

It wasn't any use screaming or struggling.

"You are perfect, Narcissa."

"No, not for you. There are other Veelas, other witches you could take…"

"I need a consort of beauty and power. You, my exquisite flower, have both."

She continued to refuse, but he took her anyway, forcibly. More tears jerked into Narcissa's eyes as she remembered.

Two weeks later she found she had become pregnant. Voldemort demanded to know whether the child was his. She did not breathe a word to him. She loved Sirius too much to let him be involved. He never knew if the child was his either. The Dark Lord chose her a suitable husband for propriety's sake, one close to him, where the child could be observed. He thought that he could recognize whose child it was once the birth had taken place, especially by the eyes.

He was mistaken. The baby was born with licks of black hair. She opened her eyes, and they were slate gray, her mother's eye color.

Narcissa had smiled then, but her happiness did not last. She knew that Voldemort was going to find out one way or another whose child it was, and his way was never the peaceful one. After the baby celebrated its first birthday, Narcissa made the decision: she was going to give her child to the magical convent in Liverpool. The baby would be safe amongst the nuns; so, cloaked in darkness, she stole through the night, her baby sleeping peacefully in her arms, unaware of its fate.

It was winter; Narcissa's tears froze on her cheeks as she lay the baby in front of the convent's doors. She kissed her finger, then tapped it on the baby's wispy head. "Good bye, Celeste. From now on you shall be known as the orphaned Leila Blackfeather, and hope that you will never again have to associate with the evil that nearly consumed your mother." She couldn't bear to look upon her baby any longer, and broke into a quick run until she was far away from the convent. 

End flashback 

~ * ~ *

__

(Lord Voldemort's Headquarters, Forbidden Forest)

Lucius Apparated to the predetermined area instantly, only to find it deserted. He could hear the Dark Lord inside, but he had the better sense than to go find Him. Lucius' eyes widened. That was his master, yelling. The Dark Lord rarely lost His temper. That was His greatest asset, the cold calculating veneer that hid His rage and made it all the more menacing. The door creaked open and slammed behind Voldemort as He stepped out, hair disheveled, eyes glinting. He looked almost…human.

"Lucius," he hissed. 

"I came as soon as I could, my Lord."

Voldemort ignored the comment. "Now, the tainted one with your Draco. They were dancing. The perfect opportunity came when they decided to go for a walk. My emissary ambushed them, while another servant took care of the girl. But that cursed Potter and Dumbledore were there as well. And then, of course we have the matter of the Staffs." He touched his chin thoughtfully. "The boy can call his steed anytime he wants, the Queen Dragon Fiona. He is much too powerful to frighten now. But his tainted love, she is another matter. She still holds close ties with those in the Muggle world."

"Lord, if I am not too forward, how did you receive this information?"

Voldemort laughed. "My spy and follower, I think you will recognize her name: the Countess Parthenope De Maurier."

Lucius gasped. "Draco's former attraction?"

"Ah, yes, unfortunately, she still has feelings for your boy. She and I have come to an agreement of sorts. Quiana leaves the picture and she's on my side."

"But my Lord, surely such a little child has little power?" Lucius laughed nervously.

An evil smile crept across Voldemort's snake-like face. "You are sorely mistaken, Lucius, for she has great power. She has a 'special' connection with the dead. However, that is unimportant for the matter at hand. Let us deliver a message to the tainted one, Lucius, a very personal message."

~ * ~ *

__

(Slytherin 7th Years Boys' Dormitory)

Upon discovering the mysterious visitor's true relation to him, Draco decided that his splitting headache was just not going to go away without some sleep. He left with Harry while Celeste remained next to Quiana. The moment his head drifted to sleep, his visions returned with a vengeance, only this time, they were slightly different. 

Flash 

He tried to open the barred door, but it was sealed shut. He pounded on it, kicked it, but it still wouldn't open. He sighed in pure frustration and stopped. With a low groan, the door swung open, plunging him into an all-too familiar darkness.

"Quiana?" he called. He saw the glints of her eyes and she was there. Little by little, the darkness ebbed away, leaving a gentle, rosy light. Her back was turned toward him, and he could see that her cloud-like chemise didn't cover her shoulders to her lower back. Suddenly, he blinked and she was faced him in front. 

"Draco."

"You can talk!" He exclaimed, surprised.

"I can now. What do you want here? I have nothing more to tell you." She clasped her hands together.

"Are you real?" he asked, stepping closer. 

"Yes, Draco. I'm very real, and from the future. Well…one of your futures." Her hands shook slightly. "The future we chose together."

"Where am I? Am I with you?" 

Quiana reached out and slid one finger down his cheek. "I can't tell you any more than I already have. You can't come here anymore; you rule your own life now. The choice is left to you: this future…or another."

A thought struck him and he swallowed. "Am I…Am I dead?"

A small, red trail coursed from the corner of Quiana's right eye. "I'm sorry," she said.

"But that means I'm going to die soon…I mean…"

She smiled bitterly. "Don't believe all that you see."

"We did love each other, didn't we?"

"We still do…"

Her hands moved down by her sides. They were fidgety, yet they still remained graceful; it was like watching her move in slow motion. A flicker of shiny metal on her right hand caught his eye and he stared at it in consternation. His voice was unsteady, shocked with realization. "I gave you that, didn't I?"

Quiana's hands stopped their tremors. Her left hand moved to touch the bright green jewel in the center of the silver ring. "Yes, you did."

End flash 

~ * ~ *

__

(Hospital Wing, following morning)

Professor McGonagall brushed the tears from her eyes as she walked briskly down the corridor to the Hospital Wing. Her fingers trembled a little and her temple throbbed painfully. The passing of an Auror was never something to be taken lightly in the magical world.

"…Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." Quiana graciously accepted a fresh cup of tea, evidently awake and on her way to regaining full health after drinking the tea from the night before. "Professor McGonagall! I didn't expect to…see…you…" Quiana's voice tone dropped a few levels once she recognized the look of distress on the professor's face. "Is there something I should know?" She asked quietly, almost afraid to be told.

"We just received word…" Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and continued with difficulty. "Your grandmother's house in Liverpool was attacked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The house was completely demolished."

"And my grandmother, is she all right?" Against her will, panic crept into Quiana's voice. She set the tea on the bedside table. "Tell me, is she all right?"

Professor McGonagall appeared as if she was going to cry again. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't tell me she's dead, don't tell me…" Tears stung at her eyelids. Some sneaked out and landed on the white sheets, staining them with her blood once more. "Oh, god…why?" She looked so sadly at Professor McGonagall that the professor had to cover her mouth to prevent sobbing aloud.

In a few moments, though, the professor had regained her composure. She handed Quiana a sealed, paper envelope. "This was found near the remnants of the house. It is addressed to you, and only you."

Quiana took the letter in her hand. _Was this…was this my grandmother's last message? _She tore it open, only to find a beautifully scrawled note:

'Purity stands alone. Silver and Gold do not flow together. Beware the consequences of your actions.'

"Voldemort," she said through clenched teeth. What grief had been in her heart was now replaced by pure, unadulterated hatred. She wanted more than anything to see the Dark Lord writing beneath the Blade, begging for mercy and renouncing his evil. Her anger collapsed into sadness, her senses overwhelmed with guilt. "It's all my fault, if I had just…" More red tears fell from her eyes. 

Professor McGonagall took the letter from Quiana's limp hands and set it aside. She took the side of the sheet and wiped the blood away. "There's nothing you could have done. You were here, and your grandmother was not. Her memory will be cherished, but at the same time, Hogwarts needs you to be strong. Ophelia Llewellyn would not have wanted her valiant granddaughter to spend the rest of her life lamenting over her grandmother's death." 

"You're right, professor, it isn't any use lamenting. Tears aren't going to bring her back…" Quiana swiped the last bloody drop from her eyes. She laughed resentfully. "The only thing I can do now is vow to bring about the end of Voldemort, but I guess being Holder of the Blade has already taken care of that." 

~ * ~ *

__

(Dumbledore's office, same morning)

There was a knock at the door of Dumbledore's office. He was in the middle of writing a letter to the Ministry of Magic, informing them of the situation at hand. "Come in," he invited, without looking up.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore, it's good to meet you." Celeste walked in, taking a seat in front of the wide, polished wood desk.

"Celeste LaSeule, I've heard much ado about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Dumbledore set down his quill and stood up to shake her hand. "I presume you are here for the approaching war?"

"Correct, professor. I have brought my latest 'breakthrough' along with me: it works like a Portkey, only far more reliable and allows itself to only be manipulated by certain people. I am sure the forces of good will be needing it quite soon."

"I see," Dumbledore replied, deep in thought. "And you are quite sure of this?"

"Yes, however now all I lack is the last ingredient: the blood. Somehow, it refuses to work without the blood of those it transports."

Dumbledore folded his arms. "You plan to use this when it comes time to bring the Holders to the Grounds of Evangelia."

Celeste only smiled. "I thought it would be much more useful for the war than sitting on my shelf amongst my other, dustier successes."

"We will need a miracle, Celeste. There are only two Holders in our midst, Draco and Quiana. The whereabouts of the other two are unknown."

Celeste sighed. "I was afraid of that." She fingered the pendant around her neck. All of the sudden, she was overcome with an idea. "Dumbledore, what of their previous whereabouts? Were they ever known?"

Dumbledore's eyes lit up curiously. "Yes, I think they were. Why, Celeste, have you conceived yet another brilliant idea?"

"This just might work in our favor," she said, yanking on her pendant. The chain holding it broke, and she placed the pendant on the table: it was a small hourglass, with sand and everything.

"A miniature TimeTurner…" Dumbledore said in awe. 

~ * ~ *

__

(Gryffindor Tower, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory)

Hermione sat up in her bed. She had never woken up this late before. Lavender wasn't in her bed…_Just how late am I? _She wondered, yawning sleepily. Her head throbbed. _It's like I just got run over by a train…I better get ready for class._ She rolled out of her bed, put on her slippers and made her way to the bathroom. She was just starting to wash her face when she overheard two familiar, chatty voices: Lavender and Angelica. 

"Lav, have you heard anything of that Second Mage War and whatnot? Do you think it had anything to do with what happened to Parvati?"

"Oh, silly Angelica, have you actually been listening to Professor Binns talk about that? I mean, you know all that talk is absolute nonsense. There isn't going to be any 'mage' war, my parents told me so. And about Parvati…she probably just got lost with her date in the woods…you know how she's absent-minded like that."

Angelica's voice was skeptical. "How can you be so sure? Everyone's talking about it, even Dumbledore seemed a little worried about her…"

"Trust me, dear, Parvati's going to be fine, you'll see. There isn't going to be any 'mage war'. Things like that just don't happen to good witches and wizards."

"I hope you're right, Lav, for the sake of a lot of people."

Hermione gawked. _How could Lavender be so naïve? To say that there was no Mage War would be like to ignore the foulest smelling potion right under one's nose! And yet Lavender's parents refuse to let her see it? How could they?_

Hermione suddenly didn't feel like being in the same room as they. Their ignorance just sickened her. Angelica, polite as usual, greeted her first.

"'Lo, Hermione! Did you have fun last night?"

__

She's being so phony with me…Hermione thought. _Something has to be wrong here. _"Oh! Um…Yes, I did, thanks. And, ah, you?"

"Same, although I have to say I missed the last half of the Ball…had something to take care of." Angelica flashed Lavender a look, and she giggled hysterically.

__

That's the problem with inside jokes…people just don't like to share them. Hermione tried to smile back, but it was too much effort. "I missed some of it too, after Professor McGonagall cut it short and sent us back to the dormitories."

"Oh, really, that's too bad…" Angelica sighed, her smile plastered to her face. 

"Yes, well, I really have to go, I'll see you around." Hermione spun around and walked quickly in the direction of her room. She quietly closed the door behind her and took out her robes from her trunk. A random thought floated across her mind. _Whatever happened to Quiana?_

~ * ~ *

__

(Great Hall, breakfast hour)

Everyone was seemingly preoccupied with his or her food, to a point where no one seemed to want to talk. Draco picked up his drink and sipped.

__

It's awfully quiet today, especially at my table. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, which was missing a few people. The only ones whispering were Harry and Weasley; there was no sign of Granger, Lavender, and another girl. _Was it something in the food?_ He examined a piece of toast on his plate. It was simply a normal, toasted slice of bread. No charms or anything obvious. Usually, the Slytherin table was extremely active--everyone was hatching schemes of humiliating the Hufflepuffs or even the Gryffindors. However, today…today was different. No schemes, no insults, nothing. Just the sounds of people picking at their food.

At the Gryffindor table was something similar. No one was doing anything except poking listlessly at the food in front of him or her. Ron surveyed the rest of the Gryffindors, all silent except for himself and Harry. He tapped Harry on the shoulder. 

"I wonder what's gotten into everyone?" he whispered.

"There's something in the air, I guess…" Harry answered vaguely, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

"Oh, there's something in the air, all right, something bad. It's about last night, isn't it? Something happened to Parvati…"

The entire Gryffindor table stopped whatever they were doing and turned to stare in Ron's general direction. He gulped, his ears turning a distinct red. He looked at Harry. "You think I said that too loud?"

Harry nodded. Had the situation been different, he would have laughed, but death wasn't something he liked to laugh about. Once the other Gryffindors lost interest and Ron's embarrassment evaporated, Harry motioned for Ron to leave with him. 

In the corridor, Ron could now return to speaking at his normal volume. "So what really happened to Parvati? What did Dumbledore say?"

Harry held up his hands in dismay. "All I know is that a Dementor got to her, and her soul was transferred to Black Night--" 

"Wait, you mean the dragon…" Ron bit his lip in an effort to understand. "Parvati's soul was relocated to the dragon after the Dementor…?"

"Basically; Dumbledore sent Hagrid out to look for her body, but as far as I know, nothing's been found. Quiana's still in the Hospital Wing, and Hermione's--"

Ron interrupted him again. "Hermione's what? Is she hurt?" He asked, wide-eyed with evident apprehension. 

Harry raised his eyebrow. "No…Professor McGonagall said that she sent the remaining students back to the dorms when Black Night was first sighted. Hermione's fine…as is Lavender."

Ron sighed with relief. "That's good to know."

"Good to know what?" Hermione walked up to her friends, curious. 

"Hermione! You're all right!" Ron encircled her in a hug. 

"What's this all about?" she queried, laughing. She looked towards Harry, who mouthed, 'I'll explain later.'

~ * ~ *

__

(A deserted room outside the Great Hall)

Hearing voices isn't supposed to be normal, Draco thought as he entered the old classroom. _Especially that voice…_

"Hello, Draco Argentus." He whirled to face the disembodied voice. Only three people ever called him by his first and middle name, and the disembodied voice calling to him did not resemble his mother or father's voice at all.

"Parthenope," he sighed tiredly.

"You sound so thrilled to see me, darling." The air shimmered, and Parthenope appeared, electric red hair and all, sitting in a velvet plush chair.

"I am," He couldn't hide the sarcasm in his voice.

She ignored his tone and bustled on. "I came here to offer you a proposition: I, Countess Parthenope De Maurier, wish to marry thee, Draco Argentus Malfoy."

"You what?" Draco asked, shocked.

"I want to marry you." She stated firmly.

"Ah." He said, weakly, leaning on the wall for support. "Well, Parry…we haven't been together in years, I'm afraid I don't know you all that well anymore. Besides, I don't love you--"

"Love…" Parthenope laughed. "Love, Draco? How delightfully quaint! It's no wonder you win over so many…"

"Huh?" The polished veneer of suavity was gone from his fearful face.

"It is impossible to love and be wise," she said, grinning.

"Francis Bacon," murmured Draco instinctively. "But what does that have to do with--"

Parthenope cut him off and grasped his hand. "Listen to me, Draco. You and I can gather an army rival to all. The Second Mage War will be our victory. Your Dragon staff's ability with my voice and my own powers."

"Parthenope, don't you understand? What good are one Holder and a hypnotist against three other Holders, Dumbledore, and the rest of the forces of good?" Draco smirked. "My Dragon Staff is no use against the powers of Sun, Sea, and Blade combined, even with your voice. Besides, I don't care much for world domination: it can't be done."

Parthenope chuckled coyly. "You're a Slytherin, of course you care for world domination."

Draco cursed under his breath. 

She threw back her hair. "Moreover, you can only choose Dumbledore and Potter or the Dark Lord himself. You lose either way."

"I side, Parthenope, with Quiana," he countered in a tight voice.

"Ah, the dark little wench I saw you with the other night? That means you side with Dumbledore, and correct me if I am wrong: I don't think you care for him or his multitudes of Muggles."

__

You are in deep shit, Draco Malfoy. She can read you like a bloody book. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. _Just listen, then walk away: it's easy. You love Quiana…_

"…That's what will happen. Close your eyes to it if you can or want, but you simply don't belong in that world. Nor do you belong in a servile worship of the Dark Lord. Make your own world, Draco. I'm offering you that choice: your way out of this hellish dilemma." She smiled innocently, knowing each word tossed another wave of doubt into his already turbulent mind. 

"I have my own world, I just…won't take sides, that's all." He said, clinging to a shred of obstinacy. 

Parthenope sighed, then began in a sadistic, pleasant tone, "Now, Draco, you have made me very irritated. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to do this, but--marry me, or I join Voldemort and wreak havoc on the Muggles, kill your little girlfriend like her ancient grandmother and bury her alongside your mother and oh, I almost forgot: half-sister, who, trust me, will not die such a quick and honorable death."

Draco's face drained to an even lighter shade of pale. "But…I love her." His voice came out strangled. Even to him, it sounded weak and unconvincing.

"If one judges love by the majority of its effects, it is more like a hatred than a friendship." She grinned once more, her voice dripping sickly sweet. "You don't have to decide now. Tell me later, sweet, I'll be around. Why don't you discuss it with--" she paused to roll her eyes in disgust. "Quiana. Toodles, dearest!" She winked and pecked him on the cheek. He watched in mounting disgust and horror as she walked out of the room, swaying her hips like a gypsy dancer. 

He tilted his head back to the wall. _This is too much…_his head started to spin and thoughts flew wildly. Flashes of the future decayed in his mind. He held his head in his hands and began to sob softly. No tears ran down his face…because if there was one thing his father taught him, it was that tears would never again run down his face.

~ * ~ *

__

(Dumbledore's office)

Albus Dumbledore cast Celeste a suspicious glance. "Where did you get that? The use of a TimeTurner is strictly governed," he said sharply, with a slight twinkle in his eye.

Celeste smiled. "Oh, Professor, you're a failure as a Ministry rule stickler. I didn't steal it, I made it myself."

"Highly impressive, Celeste. I was not aware of your advancements."

"Professor Dumbledore, if I may be frank: I have invented the Draught of Eternal Youth, a TimeTurner is nothing to me."

"Now, Celeste, it should work theoretically, but in practice?" He glanced towards the window. "A TimeTurner is a Metallurgist's domain."

"Much useful knowledge comes from unlicensed Alchemy." She laughed when Dumbledore's eyebrows went up in surprise. "I took a course once I dropped out of Alastriona. Pity it's outlawed."

"There is a very fine line between genius and lunacy," Dumbledore mumbled, chuckling.

"I heard that, Professor! I was a born Alchemist, even Azkaban couldn't change that. The Ministry simply wouldn't see beyond my age when I applied for a license, so I decided to take the matters into my own hands."

Dumbledore nodded. "Vigilante Alchemist…I will not argue with that. Come, we have work to do. First, I think we should discuss this with the two Holders here--"

A sharp knocking sounded from the door. "Who calls?" Dumbledore asked loudly. 

"Minerva McGonagall, it is absolutely urgent."

"Celeste, if you will excuse me." Dumbledore drew out his wand and unlocked the door for Professor McGonagall. "Yes, Minerva?"

"I have a matter to discuss with you concerning the rest of the school year. We are putting the students in perpetual danger by keeping them here."

Celeste was silent, and excused herself. She realized that this was something in which she had no business. She waved to Dumbledore and slipped out of the office.

"But Minerva--"

"I won't have it, Albus, I just won't. These are children we are speaking of. Children! They must not be exposed to something like this. The war is coming sooner than we expected, and we have failed to protect them. I received an owl from Parvati Patil's mother, Vidya, informing us that she expected Padma back in India by next week or the Ministry will be in an 'uproar'. I will personally take on the responsibility of sending owls to each student's parents, letting them know that the schooling for Third Years and above has been cancelled until further notice." Professor McGonagall removed her glasses and began to wipe them with part of the reddish-gold cloak she was wearing.

Dumbledore was silent, then moved to a stand next to his desk where Fawkes was perched. Stroking the phoenix, he watched Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, I completely understand your concern for the younger ones, but I feel that they must at least finish this term."

"Albus, you know it is not safe. We all know it."

He sighed. He had to give in; there was no use in arguing with Minerva, but he already knew that. "All right, but we have to allow some students through…"

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you agreed with me, Albus."

"Yes, Minerva, but how will future, incoming children know how to defend themselves against Voldemort? You know Hogwarts will become the headquarters for SAVE. They will be safe then."

Professor McGonagall's jaw was set. "Seventh Years will be given a choice: to enlist in SAVE or to simply return home. Once enlisted, they will either be drafted to fight or teach a subject: Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Myself and the rest of the teachers will constantly be with you and the leaders of SAVE; we will not have time to teach rudimentary principles any longer."

Dumbledore nodded, his face saddened.

Professor McGonagall exhaled sharply. "I will send the owls immediately."

~ * ~ *

__

(Hospital Wing)

Madam Pomfrey's face was lined with worry. "Are you sure you are feeling well?"

"Yes, Madam, thank you." Quiana fastened the clasp of her robes, stood up and shook Madam Pomfrey's hand. "I must be going now."

"There is a meeting going on in the Great Hall, they will be expecting everyone."

"Good day, Madam." Quiana turned and left the hospital wing, for the first time since the Yule Ball.

When she reached the Great Hall, it was like her first day all over again. The tables were filled with students, and upon opening the door, they all turned to stare at her. Silently, she moved to take her seat at the Gryffindor table. 

Dumbledore stood calmly behind of the long faculty table at the front of the Hall. His face looked grim. "As many of you know, there are, without a doubt, many rumors of the Second Mage War that is to happen very soon. It is with greatest sadness that I confirm your fears. A mage war is indeed on the brink, and as your parents will be assuredly fearing for your safety, we have no choice but to release you to them. All Seventh Years have a choice to stay. However, if you take this path, you will be enlisted into SAVE, the Struggle Against Voldemort and his Emissaries. Make sure you made the right decision if you enlist--you will either be drafted into battle or to teach basic Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Owls have been sent to all parents concerning this misfortune. I wish everyone the best of luck and safety for the restf of the holidays." 

The Hall was abuzz with great whispers. Some students panicked, others rejoiced at the chance of being drafted into battle. 

Dumbledore sighed. The hardest part was yet to come. He suddenly appeared years older…the youth somehow evaporated from his body. Hermione shut her eyes. _So it is true._ She glanced over at Quiana, who had just arrived from the Hospital Wing.

Quiana's heart fell. _This is it…_She thought gravely. _After years of peace, the Mage War has come back to haunt everyone. Why do I have the feeling that this is a war to end all wars? What is our purpose, to help protect the forces of good against the forces of evil? Or is it to ensure the continuation of a peaceful existence? _As a Holder, it was her predetermined destiny to stand up for the just cause, to fight for the forces of good in the eternal feud against evil. _It's my destiny to fight for myself and the cause…that, or like all the Holders before me…Die trying… _

[happy holidays, welcome to the turning point.] 

[jade]


End file.
